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sophiethewitch1 · 8 months

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What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

1K notes · View notes

rieamena · 3 months

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take my hand until the sun goes down

kenji sato & baseball critic!reader headcanons

the first installment

requests put in by the lovely @despacito-uwu16 (bless your beautiful big brain)

marriage hcs ♡

we all know how much ken is in love with you but after that stunt he pulled at the championship game, it got a whole lot worse. he would not let a single chance to call you his fiancée pass by. afterparty following a challenging game? "can't make it, i miss my fiancée." team planning a dinner? "let me ask if my fiancée wants to come!" trying to get out of an agonizing conversation? "oh, my fiancée's calling me." he does not miss a BEAT when it comes to you. and after you got married!?!? oh let me tell you…

he physically cannot stop talking about you. something sweet that you did, how much you are for him, how much he loves you. its gotten so bad that his teammates have to tread lightly when speaking to him just to not trigger a 20 minute long rant about you (they're just jealous!!!). "i took the stray that showed up at my house the other night to the vet and it turns out she's really sick…" "really? that's so sad. you know, that actually reminds me of how my wife and i were eating bread this morning and she just looked so pretty." "how are those two things related!??!"

personal headcanon here but kenji cannot cook for the life of him. he can chop up his vegetables and take out seasoning from the cabinet but do NOT put that man near a stove. he will burn the kitchen down. unfortunately, kenji knew of his innate talent to someway somehow manage to cause chaos everytime he turned on an oven. so what did he do? he started watching you while you cook; occasionally taking notes on online recipes he'd think you'd like. every time you had to leave for an interview or babysit chiho, ken would load up the stove and start practicing. once he felt like he got good enough, kenji surprised you with breakfast in bed. french toast, eggs, bacon, and fruits were laid out on a platter, the delicious smell of it all and the sound of your husband coaxing you from your sleep. "wake up, my love. i made something for you~"

his petnames for you gradually changed as well. 'baby' turned into 'my love', 'my pretty girl' turned into 'my pretty wife', 'princess' stayed though. he loves your reaction when he calls you princess. your eyes become lidded as you look him up and down seductively, "so… are we gonna fuck or…?" ken threw you over his shoulder, teasing your body as he walked to the bedroom, "don't need to ask me twice. you gonna' ride me?" "that was my plan all along, pretty boy."

the first time you called kenji your husband to his face, he stopped thinking. his knees buckled, his heart started racing, his breathing got heavy. he genuinely thought he was about to die but he would be doing so in your arms so it was far more bearable. also!!! he has to kiss you at least three times a day or he dies (i dont make the rules!!). most days, kenji peppers your face in kisses in the morning, presses a kiss to your cheek or forehead in the afternoon, and gives you the most loving and deep kiss just before you head to bed

"[name], i have a crush on you. i love your voice and your smile and you're just so beautiful. i'm in love with you." ken wrapped you in his arms, speaking lowly "ken, we're married. we've been together for six years." "i know but still. just say you don't accept my confession." kenji huffed "no, i do! i have a crush on you too! the biggest one actually. please date me…"

children hcs ♡

kenji is THE girl dad. no questions asked. full stop.

kenji cried and i mean CRIED when you told him you were pregnant. you planned it in such a cute way honestly, it's a shame he didn't get it at first. you baked a couple buns and put them in the kitchen oven. simple, right? wrong. when ken got home and you kindly asked him to look in the oven for you, he was mildly confused. "you just have a lot of bread in here." you lightly pushed him out of the way, taking out every bun except one. "and now?" "you have one bread in the oven." "try again." "you have a roll in the oven." ken winked at you, swearing that he got it right this time. "not a roll but a…" "a….?" "there's a bun in the oven, kenji! i'm pregnant!"

he was the (self-proclaimed) master of the art of ponytails and braids, often getting compliments from other parents on his skills. his mornings usually started with your daughter climbing onto his lap, handing him a hairbrush and a collection of colorful hair ties. kenji would carefully detangle her hair, his hands gentle but efficient, and then he would create intricate braids that she would show off to her friends at school

kenji also knew every princess, superhero, and storybook character by heart. his nights often ended with him sitting on the edge of his daughter's bed with you, reading her favorite stories with dramatic flair, his voice changing for each character, making her giggle and beg for one more chapter.

one evening, as the sun set and the playground began to empty, she ran up to her dad, breathless and excited. she had found a shiny pebble and declared it to be a magical gem. kenji knelt down, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and listened intently as they wove an elaborate tale about the pebble's powers. he played along, his imagination as vivid as theirs, and they spent the rest of the evening concocting a story that would become a cherished memory.

and at his baseball games, he would always scan the crowd for his two girls, and once he found you cheering loudly in the stands, he never failed to flash his signature smile and give you both a wink.

"i mean, she needs a sister. don't want her growing up an only child like me." kenji whispered as you placed your baby daughter into her bassinet. "darling, if you want another baby, just say that." "please please please, can we have another one??" "not right now. but yes ken, we can have another baby."

requests for them are open <3

taglist <3

@mochminnie @yellowheartz @ririkacchi @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @reit0o @luvshleyyy @lovingyeet @stickypaperstarlight @raee-dreeaaamz @rreasonablydumbb @bandolls @gingersnap126126 @automalvo @spiderboogie @shellspider @blogscach @nightingale047 @deadbydad @deadbydad-writes @phantomface

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sojumamii · 4 months

Text

˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧always a brat ˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧

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summary: no matter how hard he tries,megumi is always gonna be a spoiled brat that hates to share, especially when it's you he's sharing.

tags: megumi x fem/afab! reader, childhood friends to lovers, slight slight angst mostly cute fluff, flustered pining megumi, jealousy (cute), dad gojo, nanami is so cool (derogatory) this is me wanting cute megumi content bc i miss him too much. Honestly I gave a huge backstory about you and megumi's childhood LMAO enjoy

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It wasn't so long ago that a neurotic white haired lanky man showed up at your doorstep, alongside a bored, odd-haired child to explain curses, and the art of jujutsu sorcery.Yadayada some bad people were looking for you because you have a powerful gift yadayada Gojo can help nurture your talents and keep you from being caught by those bad people because he's a big strong guy who supposedly ruined the world (idk the freak kept yapping for so long) yadayada you may or may not die but you'll be helping people, and not have to be around mean family members who think you're weird for seeing scary monsters they don't believe are real. (showed them)

The whole time this child-highjacker was talking you couldn't help but stare at the young boy about your age hiding behind him, not really out of fear but of disinterest, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Gojo catching on concluded his speech and gestured towards Megumi,"Ah! This little handsome punk right here is Megumi Fushiguro another cute stray i've taken under my wing! You're probably about the same age, first grader? Sooo! I'm sure you're gonna be best friends in no time!" he yelled animatedly, smile wide and mischievous.

Megumi scoffed in response, turning and walking away to a nearby car. You gasped at how so blatantly rude he was to your face, your face painted with obvious irritation. At your reaction Gojo chuckled and reached down to ruffle your (h/c) hair presenting you with a thumbs up.

"Don't mind him, I've come learn he's naturally moody, like is that kid really six years old,..but i'm sure he'll come around...I mean he really has no choice as you two will be a team from now on. Anyways! Let's get you two something to eat..y'like kikufuku?!" Shiny blue eyes peaked from round black sunglasses, you simply shrugged and walked with him to the car with your silly little backpack and your new future.

Growing up with Megumi was a slightly mixed bag, but instead of growing irritated of him, he fascinated you. Despite his more shadowy personality, you were rather fond of him right away,finding his hot temperament and need to be serious rather endearing and cute much to his open and endless dismay.

You wondered how this could be someone your age, as Megumi was much more composed than the supposed adult now taking care of you. He was indifferent to both you and Gojo, only ever interacting with his elder step-sister Tsumiki, who urged him to be kinder and more approachable especially since you two were in the same predicament. Megumi would scoff and tell her to leave him alone and that he didn't wanna make friends just because they're stuck together. You never took offense but it would annoy you that you had the decency to be kind but he wasn't discreet with his attitude.

"Right..like I know i'm the adult but it's kind shooting down my pride that this kid doesn't like me yet, i'm not above bribes..." Gojo had whispered to you after you secretly inquired about the other child, having a difficult time adjusting to your new living situation, the young boy's attitude towards you was not welcoming and though you did your best to leave him alone, you would still extend an arm out as gently as possible. Although, you were also not above checking Megumi's attitude which would result in some major clashes that would make Gojo fret over household repairs.

After walking you guys home from school Gojo would figure out what to feed you before training and homework, allowing you to snack as he stressfully lamented over what to feed the three of you. You're all seated at the table with your homework laid out, peckish from a long day of being an elementary aged child. Tsumiki sat primly in her chair sipping on a pink carton of strawberry milk, a staple in the gojo-fushiguro-(l/n) household. Excitedly you ask her if there were anymore boxes of the heavily worshipped beverages left.

She nodded sweetly, soft brown locks swaying,"Yeah (y/n) there's one more left with your name on it!"

You beam happily out of your seat, ready to grab your treat and announce to your guardian that more strawberry milk was to be added to the grocery list. Until...

You fall face first onto the firmness of the tatami mat and hear the rapid stomping of feet fleeing to the cabinet where your sacred treasure lay. Furious you look up at Megumi who was now indifferently drinking the last carton, that you had so openly claimed, a claim that was co-signed and notarized by Tsumiki. The absolute audacity of this bratty spoiled motherfu-

"Meg-" Tsumiki began to scold right before you exploded.

"You bitch!" you shrieked, you hear Tsumiki gasp at your profanity, but your anger was at boiling point with this broom haired kid. Megumi retained his look of indifference which furthered enraged you. Megumi expected you to get mad and yell at him but what he didn't expect was-

"OOF!" Megumi fell backwards roughly on the floor, as you tackled him, strawberry milk carton flying out of his hand, destination unknown. You're on him pulling as harshly as your tiny fists allow on his hair, he yells pushing you back but you're relentless!

"Calm down what's your deal you freak it's just strawberry milk!"

"You tripped me to get it you selfish brat! Even though you knew i wanted it!"

"You obviously didn't want it that bad! Should've been more alert!" he successfully gets you off of him, shoving you to the living room.

"Guys please!" You both ignore Tsumiki

"Ugh! You're such a whiny little bitch!" You lunge at him again with your fist ready,unbeknownst to you there's glowing flames of energy coursing through it,he narrowly evades it by moving his head. Making impact with the sofa, it splits in half, wooden floor below absolutely destroyed.

Megumi grunts in anger, his fist glowing as well ready to make impact with you, quickly you push him off and he blows a hole through the television and the wall behind it. Stubbornly you both make way to each other with powered filled fist ready to collide.

"ENOUGH! What's the matter you two!" Gojo catches both of your fists,pulling you two off the floor, holding the both of you in each hand, he angrily looks back and forth between you and the destroyed living room. "How did this happen! Why are you two trying rip each others' heads off and why is the living room a-oh?"

A lightbulb flickers over him," Well I'll be damned! You two finally managed to produce cursed energy,how exciting!" The older man hugs you both tightly, crushing your lungs.

"Too bad it took you guys trying to kill each other...which reminds me we need to have a little lesson on teamwork, and household construction you absolute demon children!" He gives a preview of your 3 hour long lecture by throwing you two into the hole you just punched in the floor.

After that incident you understood how someone so deceptively calm like Megumi was to be a sorcerer, he was crazy, a an absolute psycho you'd say. Gojo's words from a previous time replay in your mind:

"You have to be a little crazy to handle being jujutsu sorcerer."

Through a lot of exposure therapy, Megumi eventually got used to your presence, and actually began to enjoy it, seeking it even. Once you were both a little older and still around each other, he figured he may as well get along with you. It's not that he didn't like you (anymore) or found you annoying (anymore) he realized he was just used to Tsumiki, and didn't care for any more than that and was surprising to himself very combative to any sort of change. But he was making the effort to fix that immature side of him and be more receptive and open to you and gojo.

Despite that, the more missions you two shadowed, the longer you lived together and went to school, the closer you became and the tighter your bond felt. You became an inseparable pair, hanging out outside of sorcery and schooling, in your rooms, sharing hobbies and tastes in music, constant laughter and smiles were consistently heard and shared between you two. Witnessed fondly by Tsumiki and Gojo who had their own little gossip circle over mochi and tea. Strawberry milk was no longer allowed in the household.

This unshakable bond was like concrete, no matter the circumstances, no matter how terrifying going out on missions became and the atrocities you experienced, you guys relied on each other, minds and hearts in perfect synergy the older you became. Getting to your first year of jujutsu tech was something you both couldn't believe finally came around, now almost 10 years later, and your relationship was still thriving! Yuji and Nobara blending in perfectly to your small shared circle!

But now one person has began to shake that bond and making Megumi's possessive bratty habits rear their ugly head.

It's making Megumi regret coming to this stupid sorcerer school with the stupid handsome suit wearing ex-salarymen sorcerers who have stupid sorcery knowledge and wisdom. Who are stupidly caring and kind with cute quirks like loving bread, fuckin loser (yet megumi hates red bell pepper)

This thought process was pissing him off, and so was the existence of a specific grade 1 sorcerer.

"Nanami is so strong! His ratio technique is so cool!"

"Nanami is helping me with my precision and aim! He's so kind!"

"Nanami is such a gentleman, he tucked me to sleep in the car on the way home from a mission! A sweet handsome guy like him must have no problem getting da-"

"Alright! I get it Nanami is so great and awesome! You know it's a little inappropriate to have a crush on your superiors!" Megumi grumbles as he slams his hand on the table,eyebrows raised at you. What's so great about a guy who wears a suit to exorcise curses? fuckin weirdo

Your eyes widen as a flush takes over your cheeks, "Gumi don't be mean! I don't have a crush on Nanami, I'm just saying how kind he is and how much i've learned from him!" your lips form a pout.

"Really? Then why is your face red? Why are your eyes sparkling when you talk about him?What's the point in calling him handsome if you're not crushing on him! You sound like a love sick school girl!" He bites back.

You raise your brows and cross your arms,"You know your bratty attitude wasn't cute when we were kids and it's definitely not cute now! So what if I admire my mentor or compliment his looks! Yuji's complimented my looks and I don't see you calling him a love sick school girl!"

Internally he's kicking himself, he doesn't understand why hearing about Nanami from you is making him react this way. It feels like someone else is piloting his brain right now (or maybe his six year old self) especially when he utters his next words,"Maybe you should start hanging out with Nanami since he's so cool and special!"

"'You like me or something huh? Can't stand me looking at someone else!"You stand up, fists on the table, you lean your body over to Megumi's side of the table, face to face your (e/c) eyes give him a heated glare.

Now it's Megumi's turn to flush red, breaking his neck to look away from your intimidatingly beautiful eyes, his heart snaps.

"Are you jealous Gumi? Is that it? You want me to look at you only?" You inch closer, calling him out on his bluff.

'WHAT! Oh god.. no no no, awe shit...god damn it what am I thinking, beautiful eyes? I mean she does have beautiful eyes, and she's beauti- oh my god? She asked if I like her? I think that's what this is...heart pumping? Am I jealous of Nanami? Idiot. Why did I have to run my mouth like that? Since when do I lose my cool this bad nowadays?!" Megumi's thoughts race 100 miles per hour, body running hot from the interrogation.

"J-Jel-Jealous? What the hell would I have to be jealous of Nanami for!" His delicately pretty face twisted in confusion and irritation.

"I don't know gumi, how about you enlighten me" You smirk, cornering him like he's a feral possum, he's not getting out of this one unscathed.

He never really got into the specifics of his feelings for you, of course he liked you, or else he wouldn't stick around. You guys were so close it was honestly concerning to others and himself, you were his most treasured person (sacred one would say) He has been through major life experiences, and struggles with you, you grew up together. You had a domestic routine, a result of living together for years, even in the same house you guys slept in each other's rooms (and still do even though the dorms prohibit it) watched tv together, read together, cooked for each other, studied...went on outings... had matching rings ... matching sweaters.. and oh god is he already dating you?

That's not all, his shikigami adored you, you were there when he summoned his first ones, the divine dogs that he appropriately named shiro and kuro, and boy you were so excited to see them, the dogs took an instant liking to your adoration, and eventually you bonded with them they look out for you on missions. As a child that cemented for Megumi that you were someone he held dear and was 100% certain you had truly kind and pure heart if his shikigami were so trusting of you.

Same thing happened with his other shikigami; Nue would nuzzle into you despite his ever growing body whether it was after a successful mission or as soon as it was summoned for training, excited rust colored wings and a happy screech flocked your way. Gama and rabbit escape jumping on your shoulders in greeting or to rest.

When he lost Shiro and Orochi, you made him a pretty silver charm necklace with a snake and pretty white wolf, letting him mourn his fallen companions in the comfort of his bed as he sobbed heart wrenchingly in your arms and expressed his deep appreciation that you allowed him have something of them to carry with him

That memory is specifically one he holds so dearly, he remembers how much you reassured him that it was okay to mourn his shikigami and Yuji and that it wasn't his fault they died, and that this situation shouldn't make him jaded in making bonds with others; reality was that you guys were all still so young so to see one of you die was heartbreaking no matter how normal it was in your world.

looking back he feels that's when he began realizing his feelings ran deeper than initially imagined. It was instinct for him to protect you, comfort you and even just care for you in any way possible. Always making sure you were fed and hydrated, well rested, not overstrained, comforting you when missions you went on without him went awry, carrying you to bed when you fell asleep in the common room at the dormitory, or in the car on the way home.

If it was cold he made sure you had a sweater on before just in case or disregard his coldness by taking off his sweater and tenderly putting it on you (whilst grumbling and nagging for you to bring one, though Megumi would never admit so brazenly he loved seeing you in his clothes, that's his secret to keep.)

From across the way, Yuji and Nobara watch the spectacle going on at your table, it was very rare for you and Megumi to fight, you guys bickered for sure, you all did, but Megumi never lost his cool with you in those instances like he did with them. Usually if you fought it was over very serious things, like injuries on missions, mahoraga... the drawbacks of your technique on your body.. but never a serious argument on something so...stupid? Plus it wasn't in either of your introverted natures to display such a spectacle.

"What are those two screaming at each other about? I could've sworn I heard Fushiguro saying Nanamin's name a few times?" Yuji glances back at Nobara, his brown eyes curious as to what his favorite mentor had to do with your squabble, he takes a handful of fries while Nobara looks directly at her phone to take a photo, oblivious to her lack of fries.

"I'm thinking Fushiguro is jealous that his sweet little (y/n) has her eyes on someone else for once, but for him to throw a tantrum over a harmless crush on a mentor is a level of pathetic I never expected him to be on." Kugisaki stifles her laughter, brushing her auburn hair back, not so subtly eavesdropping on the argument.(not like she could help it, she's nosy plus you guys are hard to ignore right now)

"I could see why someone would for fall for Nanamin! He's a really a gentleman! Strong too! I'd feel threatened too if I was him. But doesn't he know (y/n) really likes him? They're super close like that" The pink haired boy states like it's a simple answer as any. Nobara rolls her eyes, annoyed at the men in her class.

"Fushiguro is emotionally constipated, he may not really understand that he has feelings for her because they've always been close, but because (y/n) is girl she's smarter and knows better! She's trying to get it out of him, twenty bucks says she gets him to confess by the end of today?" Nobara sticks her hand out to Yuji, he smiles a look for determination on his face as he shakes her hand.

"You're on! Twenty bucks says she gets him to confess here and now!" They both nod to seal their deal.

"What are you guys betting on?" A voice in their booth asks. The students squeak as Gojo makes his presence known, his face inquisitive and sly.

"That (y/n) is gonna get Fushiguro to confess his feelings! It's bound to happen!" Itadori explains.

Gojo sniffles at the response, sighing dramatically while putting a hand over his heart,collapsing wordlessly into the booth end face planting on the table, Yuji softly pats his teachers back for comfort,while Kugisaki rolls her eyes at the ridiculous scenes in front of her, she turns back to your table and gasps, phone falling out of her grip.

Gojo and Yuji immediately look up, jaws dropping in shock at the scene in front of them.

Megumi and you were standing away from your table,his hand on your waist, the other holding the side of your face as both your lips were gently pressed together, you on your tippy toes and arms around his neck. They witness the gentleness of the moment, both your eyes full of fondness,and affection as your lips separate. A pretty blush overtakes the atmosphere.

"Oh my babies! They're growing up too fast! One day they're destroying the house and trying to kill each other over strawberry milk then before you know it they're getting married!" Gojo babbles through escalating sobs, accepting the tissues Yuji's offered him and cries into said student's shoulders.

Nobara and Yuji share a questioning look on the qualifications of gojo being a parent and the nature of your childhood, Yuji comforts his sensei again,"Fushiguro and (y/n) are always gonna be your babies gojo! Honestly I'm j-just s-so I'm so proud of Fushiguro being so honest about his feeheeeliiiings" the pinked haired boy chokes through tears, wiping his runny nose on his uniform

Kugisaki looks at the two emotional men in disgust, opting to watch the romantic soap opera in front of her as a live studio audience member, smiling softly to herself, as though she wouldn't be as foolish as her sensei and friend to openly admit it, she was full of pride for you too! You'd been pining over Megumi for forever even though you weren't aware of it and you always described how you used to feel lonely until you met him and no matter what you guys go through you're always there-

"Those two are finally together I can't believe it!! I'm so happy!" the hazel eyed girl joins the huddle of Yuji and Gojo, tears flowing out her eyes. All of this goes ignored and unbeknownst to you and Megumi.

You smile brightly at the black haired boy, playing with the hairs behind his neck,"See Gumi, was that so hard to admit?" You tease him, he grunts, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassed annoyance.

He softly flicks your forehead, an old habit from middle school," Shut up... I didn't really know that's what that was...but now that you're mine, that means no more Nanami talk right? Or anyone that's not me for that matter.." pretty red flush stains his fair skin.

You giggle and kiss his cheek,"Hmmm I don't know Okkutsu is a reaaaaal cutie.." you pretend to ponder tilting your head in thought.

Megumi groans and kisses you again, more confident and stern,"You're an absolute pain."

"Don't worry Gumi you're my only and favorite one. I've always been yours silly." You wink, a pink blush dusting the both of you again. Megumi presses a chaste kiss, holding your hand and grabbing both your bags to get ready to leave for training after your longer than intended lunch, you're interrupted by a deep,polite voice.

"(y/l/n),Fushiguro, my apologies for bothering you both, I just wanted to quickly speak to Miss (y/l/n), here this is research I found on techniques similar to your own and information about its users.. I hope the information is helpful to you in your journey as a sorcerer." Nanami hands you a few books with various note tabs sticking out of them. You stare at it wide eyed, stunned and excited to learn more about your technique... and how much time and effort it took a busy man like Nanami to do...Seriously, what a gentleman...

You bow in appreciation,blush reappearing, "Thank you Nanami, I'm sure this will be very insightful!" the man smiles back and nods,"Of course, be sure to let me know what else you may want to know.That being said I've taken enough of your guys' time, goodbye for now."

Megumi scoffs, irritation palpable at his senior,"Tch. Whatever womanizer."He tugs at your hand and drags you away quickly to the exit and as far away from the dashing gentleman of a sorcerer. Damn...he's good.

As you're walking you smack his shoulder in reprimand,"gumi that was rude! you're always gonna be brat who does whatever he wants!" you're scolding him but it's in between giggles and the most loving soft gaze he's used to seeing in your eyes, now that he knows what it is, it makes him shy. He kisses your face as a distraction to your lecture (fat chance.)

And what could Megumi say, you make him crazy, he's always gonna put his foot down for what's his. He silently kisses the back of your hand like a guilty puppy.

he'll apologize to nanami soon

Taken aback Nanami blinks in confusion,"Womanizer?" he repeats. Megumi's vengeful words replay in his mind, unable to figure out an explanation.

He looks back at Itadori's table when the sound of rambunctious laughter invades the dining hall, confused hazel eyes hidden behind his opaque lenses.

"Why are you laughing?"

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I hope you guys liked my first work on here!! This was written on a whim with no specific outline (explains the inconsequential lore dump as this is one shot or who knows!!) hope you guys love jealous and bratty Megumi. As calm and collected as he is I imagine when hes in love so many emotions come up he doesn't know how to define them or properly communicate them so he says the first thing his brain tells him even when he himself knows rationally its crazy to say or think.

#megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #nanami is so cool #dad gojo #jujutsu kaisen imagines #megumi fushiguro imagine #strawberry milk is a religious figure #it was not water into wine

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stevesbipanic · 29 days

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@steddieangstyaugust Day 23: Skull Rock

For many years Skull Rock was Eddie's favourite place. When he had his first ever argument with Wayne, shortly after moving there he ran away into the woods. His thought process was that Wayne couldn't send him away if he couldn't find him. What he found was Skull Rock.

He sat under the big boulder, tear tracks drying on his face. The cold surface up against his back calmed him until he felt he could return home. Wayne of course wasn't mad at all anymore, only worried and assured Eddie he would never be sent away.

He often returned to the rock whenever he needed a moment of peace. One day he found he wasn't alone. A small figure was crouched under the rock, similar to the way Eddie had been months before.

"Hello?"

The smaller boy jumped at the voice, his face was blotchy from crying. Eddie vaguely recognised him as a boy from school in the grade below him.

"Are you ok?"

The boy wiped at his face quickly, "I'm fine."

"It's ok if you're not, I come here when I'm not fine too, I call it Skull Rock," Eddie said sitting beside him.

"That's a cool name, it's nothing my dad was just mad at me."

Eddie nodded, "Dads can suck sometimes. You can come here whenever you want though we can share the spot. I'm Eddie."

The other boy smiled, "I know, you were in the talent show last week, you guys were cool too. I'm Steve."

Eddie face broke into a grin, "You saw our show? It was pretty metal wasn't it."

From then on the boys met at the rock often, even if neither of them were upset. They traded stories and wandered the woods and climbed up the rock to bathe in the sun. At school it was different, Eddie was seen as weird and Steve was always sat with the basketball kids. But here, here they were best friends.

Skull Rock was theirs, their place, just theirs. There they could be themselves, talk about what they wanted. Even...even share a small kiss, tentative and soft like all first kisses of young love. Skull Rock was theirs.

Until it wasn't.

Until Eddie showed up at the rock one night and saw Steve there, hands in the hair of some curly haired girl, lips joined and eyes closed. Eddie never returned, and Skull Rock became Steve Harrington's make out spot.

Until Spring Break.

Eddie pressed his back against the cold rock begging it to give him some kind of comfort. Traced the spot where two stupid boys promised to be friends forever and carved their initials into the rockface. He hoped that Steve still thought about where Eddie would go to hide.

Eddie has never seen Steve look so relieved to see him, tried to hide his smile when Steve wrapped him in a hug. "Knew you'd be here," he whispered in his ear.

"It was our spot wasn't it?" Eddie hoped his voice hid the sadness in the past tense of the sentence.

"I'm sorry, Eds, I promise to make it up to you when this is over ok."

He thought about that promise as he ran from Dustin and the trailer, how disappointed Steve was going to be in him but he had to keep them all safe.

He's glad Steve was stubborn and refused to let him die. Otherwise, he wouldn't be kissing him now, cold rock against his back.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddieangstyaugust #skull rock #freaky friday #angst

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holybibly · 7 months

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You're so right on your possessive piece on san, seonghwa, and mingi. Especially mingi that boy is so possessive! And he loves attention. Hard thoughts here, just imagine him catching you staring at all his rings on his big hands OR THOSE THIGHS. And him teasing you about it cause you're so cute when you blush. Also pussy drunk mingi >>> he eats out on the counter, in his studio, in the bed, everywhere. Your writing is so amazing and it's so fun to see all your thoughts through hard thoughts week 💚💚

Just a reminder, the hard / unholy hours will continue for the rest of the week.

Thank you, darling. I'm trying so hard to write more and better so that you can continue to enjoy my work. Frankly, I love praise, but I'm always terribly embarrassed by it. But I really appreciate everything you've said 💖💖💖

And now it's time for a bit of talk about my toxic boys. I hit the nails on the heads, didn't I? I have a feeling that practically all of my bunnies are of the same opinion. They give off that vibe, don't they? And I should probably just write something for them. I'm kind of crazy about this concept and I'm not ashamed of it at all.

Oh Mingi, he's definitely a pussy eater and yes, he's fucking drunk on it. (Slightly off-topic, but I'm sure Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Hongjoong feel the same way. As if they want spent a lifetime between your legs. San is definitely an oral fixation and enthusiast. As for Yunho, Yeosang and Jongho, I think they don't mind eating you. But it's not high on their list of priorities.)

I think that at the beginning of your relationship he would have been a little bit shy about it. But, hell, he'll find it harder to control himself the more time you spend together. Poor guy just wants to stick his tongue up your sweet little cunt, sue him for that.

So when he finally gets to do it, all hell is going to break loose. God, he can never get enough of you, can he? He's got this wild hunger inside him. It's clawing at him from the inside. He needs you so badly.

You're his perfect breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"It's all just for me." Mingi moans. He leans forward and licks a thick strip of your cunt. You cry out at the hot sensation, at the wet and skillful tongue sliding through your folds, and your head falls back onto the pillow as you feel his fingers stretch your labia to give him better access.

He pulls away for a split second, just long enough for him to hum lowly and mutter under his nose, "So damn wet and only mine." Your hands are gripping the sheets, and he's even more enthusiastic as he dives back in, opening you wide for his insatiable mouth.

Your nipples are so hard they hurt, and your head is spinning from all the sensations. He's driving you crazy, but for Mingi, this is just a warm-up; he hasn't even started to eat you for real yet.

Mingi swirls his tongue greedily around your hole a few times before going deep and fucking you too fast with his talented tongue, enough to make your walls clench tightly around him. After a few more thrusts, he pulls back and uses a long, slow lick to catch the large amount of fluid that is leaking out of you, his tongue pressing down flat and heavy on you. He licks you like an animal, panting and growling at the taste of you. When he reaches your clit, he gently glides his tongue over the sensitive bud several times, finally pulling it into his mouth to suck on it, causing you to moan loudly and desperately.

"Oh, fuck. Damn, M-Mingi. Oh God!"

You swear you can feel him smiling at you with a smug and lecherous smile as he returns to your hole to start all over again, but with even more desire and hunger. His guttural moan sends a wave of destructive vibrations through you.

He's pretty damn good at it.

You lose track of how many times he repeats this process until the excitement overwhelms you so much that you think you may die.

Since he started fucking you with his tongue, you have no idea how much time has passed. Hours, maybe even days. Mingi certainly has the look of a man who could do this forever.

"I can't do it anymore." You say, and the desperation in your voice is so clear to hear.

"Do you want to cum, doll?" He mumbles, pressing his cheek against your inner thigh, his gaze so foggy and distracted that he will be completely whipped for you. "You can do it. If you want to. Cum for me, doll. Let me drink you more."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader #smut #mingi smut #mingi smau #song mingi smut #mingi x reader #san smut #choi san smut #san x reader

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welcometothejianghu · 10 months

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Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 琅琊榜/Nirvana in Fire.

Nirvana in Fire is a 2015 historical series best described as either a complicated succession drama set in the premodern Chinese imperial palace, or the story of a man who didn't die a decade ago and has decided to make it everyone else's problem.

And really, I almost feel silly giving my glib little summary, because Nirvana in Fire is so well-known of a property. It's a classic for a reason, and that reason is that it's legitimately very good. This show is what happens when you adapt a solid story, get a bunch of very talented actors, and throw a huge amount of money at it. It's incredibly popular and highly acclaimed, and it earned all of the hype.

Still, while I bet there are few people adjacent to c-drama stuff who've never heard of Nirvana in Fire, I'm sure there are plenty who haven't watched it. After all, it looks like one of those slow, serious shows with a lot of ponderous talking and no joy. If that's the impression you've been given, I could imagine looking at the 54-episode commitment and saying, I don't need that in my life.

I am here to tell you you're wrong. It is a banger of a show. It's tense. It's funny. It's heartbreaking. It’s exceptionally clever. It’s jaw-droppingly stupid. It’s romantic. It’s tragic. It has smart plots and bizarre subplots. And that's not even touching the thing with the yeti.

So in case you're one of those people who's heard of Nirvana in Fire, but has put off watching it for one reason or another, I'm here with five reasons I think you should try it.

1. Epic Shit

Did you like the Lord of the Rings? More specifically, did you really like the second Peter Jackson film? Great, then you're all set for this.

I guess I could have called this Game of Thrones without the dragons, but that's not actually the vibe at all. Game of Thrones is much more sensational and salacious, with all the blood and butts and what-not. The Tolkien comparison is more apt, I think, because Nirvana in Fire is equally about as wholesome as you can get in a property where dudes are still getting stabbed all the time.

This is a show about vengeance. And yeah, justice for the fallen, sure, that's fine too. But mostly it's about a bunch of good people joining forces to make sure the bastards who did wrong pay, with their lives as necesary.

The problem, though, is that these bastards are incredibly powerful, which means that a pure brute-force approach isn't going to work. Accordingly, this quickly becomes a story about the power of smart teamwork to exact retribution on some people who can (and did!) legally get away with murder -- and our heroes are some of the people with their necks most on the line if anything goes wrong.

Don't let the Middle Earth comparison fool you into thinking this is all epic swordfights. It's not. (I mean, for one thing, as well-funded as this project is, it doesn't have Peter Jackson Money.) The vast majority of the tension in the show comes from dialogue and slow, terrible realizations. The fight scenes are almost a relief from the nail-biting intensity of intimate conversations about getting a letter from somebody's ex-wife or returning a book.

All told, the show has that incredible almost-RPG vibe of going through all the little subquests and cutscenes you find along the way to defeat the final boss. The plot carefully unravels a multi-tendriled mystery told to you by people in incredible costumes. It doesn't get much more epic than that.

(Nirvana in Fire is also a cautionary tale about how you should be very careful with who gets invited to your birthday party.)

2. A chronically ill protagonist

Okay, right in the first episode, it is established that the main character has three whole completely different names and an old nickname. I'm going to call him Mei Changsu for the duration of this rec post, but let the record show that I could just have easily gone with one of the other three.

What you learn in that same first episode is that Mei Changsu used to be a palace insider, the cocky son of a noble family, only now nearly everyone he used to know thinks he's dead. Also, he's not far off from being actually dead -- he has an unspecified terminal condition that's mostly managed, provided he stays in his little mountain hideaway with his handsome doctor bestie and doesn't return to his old stomping ground and start kicking over hornets' nests.

So guess what he's about to do.

I have to make a note of how brilliant the casting is here: Hu Ge is an action actor! He is a kickpuncher of a man! And I think it's great that you can sort of see his frustration, as well as Mei Changsu's, at having to spend the whole series wrapped in countless layers of fabric and/or lying in bed while everyone around him gets to be the badass action heroes.

Mei Changsu's not faking it, either -- he's actually dying. He expends his energy where he thinks it's necessary, and sometimes that means he has to spend the following week in bed. He's constantly frustrated with himself for what he can't do anymore. He's racing a clock, and that clock is his own failing body. If he dies, the only hope anyone here has for justice dies with him.

He gets two love interests that the show treats pretty much equally. One's a lady general who wasn't even a love interest in the book. The other's the handsome prince who was initially going to be his textual romantic partner in same book, until the author hopped genres from danmei to general historical drama. I can't even call this a love triangle, because there's no competition. He just gets a wife and a husband -- in that he gets neither, because circumstances and his own illness keep him distant from them. He lies to both of then about his condition (among other things). He wants to be with them both and knows he can't be with either. And they in turn have to learn to accept what of him they can and can't have.

(Also, Nihuang (her) and Jingyan (him) are both incredibly gorgeous, which is exactly what bisexual genius Mei Changsu deserves.)

Obviously this isn't a perfect representation of life with chronic illness, largely because Mei Changsu is an incredily wealthy man who lives in a universe with what's basically magic medicine. However, I've seen the story's treatment of him and his condition resonate with a lot of chronically ill viewers, so even with the fantasy layer on it, there's definitely something there.

3. Dave

I have already told the story of how Meng Zhi became "Dave," but long story short, he's such a Dave that I legitimately forget his character's real name. He embodies Daveness. He's The Ultimate Dave.

Dave is an excellent fighter, a loyal friend -- and a terrible liar. He's possbly the only straightforward character in the entire show. When he's asked to be duplicitous, he's comically bad at it. Dave will never do a heel turn. I was misled at first by his semi-evil facial hair, but I have seen the error of my ways. Dave is pure lawful good.

And the reason I list Dave as such a selling point is that having a Dave means you always know what's going on. This is because Dave never knows what's going on, and he has no ego about that, so he asks questions, and other characters have to explain to him what just happened, and that is how you figure out what's going on.

It's an incredibly smart move on the drama's part, because some of the (very fun) schemes are so complicated that there's no way for you, the viewer, to understand them just by watching. Without the internal monologues and omniscent narration of a book, the machinations are opaque. You need things explained -- but why would the schemers explain their schemes? Well, Dave needs some exposition, so here you go.

So if you're worried that you might be left feeling stupid by a show where so many sneaky people are hatching so many complex plans, worry not! Like the good man he is, Dave has your back.

4. A Million Amazing Antagonists

If you like bad guys, this is a show for you. This show has brilliant bad guys all the way down. It has bad guys at every turn. It has bad guys for every taste. Welcome to Big Liang's Big Bad Guy Emporium, where we guarantee you'll walk out of here with a bad guy you like, or your money back!

(And yes, this set of pictures is also to say that their costume budget was entirely well-spent.)

Without getting too far into spoilers, I will say that the basic situation underlying the whole series is this: The emperor has done a lot of bad things, and he has enlisted a bunch of people's help in hiding those bad things, so much so that many of those other people have done even more bad things the emperor didn't even know about -- and then everyone has gone to great lengths to cover those up as well. Our protagonists spend the whole series unraveling this colossal shitshow and bringing people to task for their crimes.

So really, if you're going to spend 54 episodes taking down the baddies, they've got to be baddies you love to see taken down. And these are -- in part because all of them have crystal-clear, rock-solid motivations for their actions. Nobody here is a moustache-twirling comic-book-villain baddie. They're all bad for reasons that are very understandable in their individual contexts. And not a single one of them is going to go down without a fight.

5. World's Best Mom

(Sidebar: The fact that four out of five of my reasons to watch the show are individual or groups of characters should be your strongest indicator that this is an intensely character-driven story.)

This is not a Dead Mom Show. Okay, some moms are dead, but mostly this is a Moms Are Alive And Often Cause Problems Show, which is a lot of what makes the palace drama so delicious. But there is one Good Mom who stands out above all the rest: Consort Jing.

Played with perfect grace and devastating politeness by the stunning Liu Mintao, Consort Jing is a skilled doctor and excellent baker who starts the show with a low-level status among the women of the palace. She swallows down all kinds of mistreatment because she's not in a place to oppose it -- and when she can retaliate, it must only be through soft power. She loves her jock son with all her heart, but because of both their relatively poor positions in the hierarchy, she doesn't get to see him all that much. She wants to be an asset to him, while all the time she has to fear becoming a liability.

She is also the smartest person in any room that she's in, unless she's in a room with Mei Changsu, and even then it may be a tie.

There are lots of great characters in the show that I could have highlighted here, and plenty of them are women, but Consort Jing in particular never ceases to impress me. She is trapped in a gilded cage, married to a man who [lengthy list of spoilers that are traumatic to her in particular], and held hostage by how every time she even looks like she's out of line, it puts both her and her boy in danger. She's the most vulnerable of any of our good guys. Kind of like Wang Zhi, she's got to be clever or she's dead.

Consort Jing is not part of Mei Changsu's original plan. She figures out his plan and makes herself part of it -- and entirely remotely, as she and he aren't even in the same room until episode 40 or so. She puts herself in great danger to make sure he succeeds, not because it will necessarily do her any good, but because Jingyan needs him. This woman has been captain of the Mei Changsu/Jingyan ship for like twenty years already.

Oh, and did I mention her outfits?

I love you, Consort Mom.

Are you ready to watch it yet?

Get it on Viki! Get it on YouTube! Get it on YouTube but in a different playlist! (And also maybe get it on Amazon? Not in my region, but maybe in yours.)

I will warn you that it does take off running -- I think I saw someone say it introduces nineteen characters in the first episode? I was worried that I'd be too innundated by situations and flashbacks and names to be able to follow. By the second or third episode, though, I was rolling with it. So if you feel like you're struggling at the beginning, stick with it a bit. See if you don't feel it start to click.

...Man, reading over this post has left me going, oh, but I missed that! and that! and that guy! And yeah, the truth is that there are just so many great things about the show that limiting myself to only five (and being limited to only thirty images) was tough. I'm sure that people reblogging will add their own must-see elements.

Truly, this is a show that deserves its reputation. It may not be for everyone, but if this is the kind of thing that you like, it is a shining example of that thing.

Besides, you have to love a production where everyone was clearly having just a whole lot of fun being big ol' costumed dorks.

#nirvana in fire #lang ya bang #琅琊榜 #i made this #rec post

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mcflymemes · 6 months

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PROMPTS FROM LIFE IS STRANGE, SEASON 1 * assorted dialogue, suggested by ismelodrama, adjust as necessary

everything is a picture waiting for be taken.

you're just jealous of me because i actually do the things you can't.

are you hiding something?

i'm sick of your disrespect. tell me the truth!

i don't want to fight with you anymore. i don't want to fight with anyone anymore.

i was eating those beans!

how the hell did you know about that photo?

always take the shot. my number one rule of photography.

you just don't listen, do you?

there's something weird going on with you.

you've only been here for three weeks and you're already causing conflict.

after this week, you are certainly not a little kid anymore.

not now. i'm contemplating shit.

are you fucking kidding me? this is major bullshit!

i didn't have all the evidence at the time.

we all make decisions we regret.

i'm not gonna make any excuses for my behavior.

i'd put stephen hawking against picasso any day.

it sucks to be dragged into the spotlight.

nobody believes me anyway.

you're exactly the kind of soldier i'd want by my side in a war.

why the hell not?

i almost asked you to hang out.

you should have asked me.

maybe we're too much alike.

i don't believe anything you say. you're full of shit.

eat a dick, [name].

i'll be in the tardis getting my delorean ready.

since you're the mysterious superhero... i'll be your faithful chauffeur and companion.

you don't know who the fuck i am or who you're messing around with.

where'd you get that? what are you doing? come on, put that thing down!

don't ever tell me what to do! i'm so sick of people trying to control me!

so you can't help me?

i told you before that i'll always believe you.

i may be a pest but... i'm a good listener.

you're the bravest person i've ever known.

for every action, there's a reaction.

i'm trying. but you have to understand my position.

i know i can be a pain in the ass... and you've always treated me like a person, not a beta nerd.

why do you want all your friends to die?

oh i see. i'm not important to you anymore.

nobody lectures me. everybody tries though.

do not analyze me! i pay people for that.

hey, that's total slander!

you don't know shit about my father, or me.

you're all fucked!

everybody hates me.

[name]... it's me. i just wanted to say i'm sorry.

i truly am sorry for being such a bastard.

you would have been cool to hang out with.

you might as well choose me.

i'm not perfect, okay?

you have talent, [name].

you don't have to push people out of your way.

thanks for admitting again that i have some talent.

do you think it's, like, fate we're not supposed to be friends?

nobody says we have to be friends.

everybody lies. no exceptions.

i came for all of you.

i'm in a nightmare and i can't wake up.

no wonder they call it a "web." nothing can ever get out.

i wish i could go back in time and erase everything.

just tell me you do have the photograph.

now shut up and listen.

i'm not a real scientist.

i was just happy just being your friend.

[name], i'm so sorry you had to go through all that.

i don't think i can concentrate on going out to the movies.

everybody pretends to care until they don't.

even angels need angels, [name].

i might be naive, but i feel their struggle.

why did you stop me from jumping?

this shit pit has taken everyone i've ever loved.

when a door closes, a window opens... or something like that.

i keep going back in time.

how could there be a more important moment in history?

thank you for trusting me.

hey... be careful out there.

what kind of friend are you?

you never understood me, or what happened to me.

i'll always be alone, thanks to you.

just in case we don't get out of this...

i'm going to make the right choices from now on.

i've been feeling like this might be actually the end of the world.

i hate to say that i'm glad to see you, but i'm glad to see you.

i wish i could stay in this moment forever... but then it wouldn't be a moment.

if that tornado came right now, i would just sit here and watch for a while.

i just feel like escaping.

i have total faith that you'll do the right thing when the time comes.

with great power comes great bullshit.

am i pushing myself too hard?

you like to hurt people, huh?

i'm glad you decided to escort me.

i know this is a bad time, but can i get one picture?

of course i believe you. you're the most amazing person i've ever met, and i'm glad you trust me.

i don't have a fucking clue what's going on.

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sophiethewitch1 · 8 months

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What We Want - Chpt. 4 - Nightmares Too

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“You wanna get out from under there?”

What sort of question is that? Of course, you don’t. You’re going to live here now. You’re never leaving this tiny, cramped space till you rot away and die. The stained underside of some IKEA desk was your new home.

Well, since your actual home was seeming less and less like an option. Which kinda sucks, because you’re feeling surprisingly possessive of your stuff. You don’t want fancy dresses or bubbly champagne, you want your ratty couch and the neighbour’s cat that liked to visit in the middle of the night. Your mother was right, you were the type of person to never be happy no matter what. You could appreciate the food, though.

Shaking, trembling, knees clutched to your chest, you look up. Slowly, because you’ll probably piss yourself if you don’t.

Now that you weren’t holding his hand, the vigilante known as Red Hood was much, much scarier. He was sitting on the carpeted floor with you, but he still somehow looked incredibly menacing. You preferred his old look, honestly. The helmet had less ‘grim reaper’ vibes. The hood and metal face mask made him seem like a cyborg assassin, or something equally terrifying. He was terrifying.

Still, you could appreciate the insane sort of hilarity of this situation. The notorious crime fighter and crime committer was sitting here with you, crossed legs, twiddling his thumbs away. You press your face into your hands, laugh, and then scream. The sound is muffled, but he probably still hears the exciting new phase of your breakdown.

“Don’t…” your voice cuts off, you have to think before you can manage to speak again, “Don’t you have something better to be doing?”

His giant shoulders shrug.

“I’ve got time.”

Did he? You don’t know how long you’d been up here, how long you’d been sitting here either. You’d fallen asleep, despite your desperate fight not to, so it could be anywhere between 10 to the next day. Had you missed midnight? God, you hoped not.

That stupid little ritual is what convinces you to leave. Not common sense, not the Hood, not your desperate desire to get home and sleep. No, it’s the image of your mother’s tired smile, the city in the background as you wish her another happy birthday after a long day of work. It’s a memory you’re not willing to give up, even if you technically already made your wish.

You’d lived this awful day twice. You got to blow out your candles twice, too.

Slowly, surely, you climb out from under the desk. Red Hood is quiet, careful. He doesn’t move apart from a subtle shift in his hood, suggesting he’s watching you. He’s acting like you’re a wild animal or something, like he might scare you off, or might prompt you to attack.

If he tries anything, you will. It doesn’t matter that he could snap your neck like a twig. Maybe he’s right to act that way, you’re feeling pretty feral right now. Half giving him your back, you turn the monitor for the computer on. It’s Wayne property, so you think you technically have some right to it. It’s not like you’re going to hack it or anything, you just need it to-

11:48.

“Thank god,” you sigh, relieved. Still, you’re not out of the woods yet. You needed at least a lighter, hopefully, a candle and a desert of some kind too. There were lots of cakes downstairs, if you felt you could do it. Big ‘if’ there. The mental breakdown was still well underway. And not everyone could dodge a punch like Red Hood could. Knowing you, you’d probably get sued for millions if you accidentally snapped at some poor rando.

Let’s start small. You wrench open the office’s drawer and start rooting around. You find lots of things, a Wayne Enterprises-themed stress toy, a kid’s drawing of them and their parent holding hands, and a surprising amount of hand cream, but no lighter. You slam the drawer closed and move to the next one.

“Hey, what are you doing?” his voice rumbles out, and your head snaps around.

You look down. Right. This is probably illegal. You were rooting through someone else’s private property. Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this, but it was definitely the first time you’d done it in plain view of a vigilante.

Crap. You hadn’t thought. That was your entire night, summarised.

“Uh, this is… Do you have a lighter?” you ask, wincing. You don’t really like the mask he’s wearing. Apart from being so intimidating, you’re shaking like a wet chihuahua, it’s also impossible to tell what he’s thinking through it. The domino mask, the metal face mask and the voice changer completely hid any emotion. Full coverage and all.

The helmet probably would’ve made that even harder. You’d still prefer it. This guy's creepy.

“You smoke?” he responds, slowly but surely getting to his feet. You back up quickly, pressing yourself to the wall of the cubicle. Red Hood pauses and then moves even slower. He’s careful not to frighten you any more than already.

This was all really strange. One of the strangest things that had ever happened to you. And you might’ve woken up this morning in an alternate dimension. Or something, you had zero clue what was going on. God, you really wished you’d paid more attention in science class. You’d thought Mr Gregory was crazy, but he’d gotten the last laugh.

“I don’t,” you clench your sweaty fists tight, “Maybe I should.”

“Don’t get started, it’s impossible to stop,” Red Hood says, digging into his pocket for something. You freeze, but relax again when he hands you a scuffed metal lighter.

Holding it close to your chest, you whisper a thank you to him. He nods his head in acknowledgement.

This was really weird. You couldn’t say it enough.

“I hate you,” you state because you sort of have to. Even when he’s being nice to you, helping you. It’s an obligation. You have to make sure that despite the show of good faith he was offering, you were certainly feeling no such thing.

“I figured,” he replies, which like- What the fuck? Does this make absolutely zero sense to anybody else? You’re not sure what about your panic-stricken tears and desperate hand-holding made you seem hateful, but you could work with it.

Maybe all the feelings you push down are starting to show. You ignore how worried that makes you because you’ve had enough for today. Today was more than e-fucking-nough.

You were going to find a cake and a candle, and you were going to make your wish. Again, because life sucks. You were going to finish this horrible day again because life sucks. And hopefully, you’d wake up tomorrow… tomorrow, not today.

You weren’t sure if you would. Life sucks, right?

You look the Red Hood in his creepy glowing red eyes and say, “I think I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

There’s quiet between you two for a moment. You think he’s staring at you, trying to figure you out. He knows you hate him, but you’re… well, you’re too tired to be angry right now. You just want to go to sleep. You just want this damn day to end. Tomorrow you’d go back to hating all the vigilantes of Gotham with a fiery passion, but today…

Well, you wouldn’t call it peaceful, whatever this situation is. Maybe it’s understanding. He seems understanding, for some reason. You don’t really want to think about that.

You just wanted to hate him. It was easier that way. Then you didn’t have to hate yourself so much.

“I’m going to go find some cake and a candle. It’s my birthday and I haven’t made a wish.”

Red Hood nods, “I could eat.”

That wasn’t an invitation, but whatever. Guess you’re blowing out your candles for your twenty-first with… this guy. Better than yesterday, which was with nobody but yourself and your trashy TV. Or, well, the first today.

You really think you are losing your mind. Whatever, whatever, let’s worry about it later.

After one of the most awkward and uncomfortable elevator rides of your life, squished into a corner as Red Hood took up the lion’s share of space, you find yourself back on the first floor. It’s chaos. The gorgeously decorated gala is now in rubble, and people are rushing around with the sort of fear you’d expect after the fucking Joker showed up.

He wasn’t here, which was good. It was important to focus on the good.

First responders flit around the space, checking the people who seem worse for wear and the rich bastards who think they’re more important than the service workers who are cut or bruised. All the food tables have been knocked over, the waste of it making you upset. Of course the Joker wastes food, he’s gotta be the evilest man on earth or something. It’s not just the interior that’s been destroyed, either. The giant gothic windows have been shattered inward, and broken glass covers the entire floor space. Red and blue lights flash through the gaping holes, bits of glass still attached to the stone sending it cascading across the walls.

You look down. You’re missing your shoes.

“You can’t walk on that,” Big Red says, which like, duh.

“I know that,” you mutter, looking around for another way. Ah, good, there’s a staff entrance over there, which you think probably leads to the kitchen-

“I could carry you.”

You give him a disturbed look and he shrugs. Pointing to the ‘staff only’ door, you wish you had the strength to tell the guy to fuck off. He feels like a babysitter or something.

“I’m going in there.” ‘Please don’t follow me.’

He follows you, because of course, he does.

Lucky for you, the staff entrance leads straight to the kitchen. Even luckier, there’s absolutely nobody here to witness you lose your mind. There are also lots of dishes waiting to be served, already plated and perfect. This is a professional kitchen, but it was your birthday so you have to assume they’d have had candles or a cake prepared.

You walk through the giant kitchen, and Red Hood hangs back. He leans against the doorway, crossing his tree-tunk-esque arms and glowering. Nowhere can do a scary hero like Gotham can. He was really messing with your vibe, which wasn’t all that great in the first place.

Your eyes rove over the platters, head snapping back when you spot a tiny set of confectionaries at the back. Cupcakes, three in total. They don’t match the rest of the other high-quality foods, but you know they’re the ones you want anyway. You hope this didn’t belong to someone else, and promise to pay them back… somehow. You’d write a note or something, leave your number behind.

You were rich now. You’d have preferred the lottery instead of all this. What’s the saying, ‘beggars can’t be choosers?’ You’d certainly been begging.

It’s a struggle to reach the back of the counter without knocking any of the other food. You grab the plate, lift it up and over, and then set it back down on an empty stretch of countertop.

You look over the three cupcakes, trying to pick one. There’s one that’s a dark raspberry pink. A pink that’s a little too dark, actually. Almost… reddish. You glance over your shoulder at the devil lurking behind you, wince, and decide you’re going for the blue cupcake. You think this might’ve also been one of Sam’s favourite colours. It would’ve been at some point, at least.

Now, candles. This might be the hard part, but it’s the most important one. Again you start rooting through some stranger’s property, and Red Hood just watches silently. It’s weird. This whole situation is weird. You’re tired and confused and you’re half convinced you’re dreaming it all, but… but you’re definitely starting to think this might be real.

And that’s fucking scary. So, back to candle hunting. They had to have some, it was your birthday. Maybe, you were pretty sure. Somehow the worst day of the year had happened twice because God knows you had some shit luck. You’d really like some solid answers, instead of just ‘maybe!’. And for some reason, you really didn’t think you’d be getting them anytime soon.

Ah, shoot. You found your candle. It’s one of those giant ‘Happy Birthday’ cake toppers, all loopy and connected words. Your cupcake is way too small, and your candle is way too big. Well, you’re nothing if not resourceful. When you bend the candle, the wax snaps easily under your grip. You’re left with a capital ‘H’ and under that the ‘B’ and little ‘i’ and ‘r’ from the beginning of birthday. Good enough, you suppose.

You stick the crumbly, glittery monstrosity on top of the stolen cupcake, and swipe the lighter again. The letters sag to the side, and you nudge them back into balance.

You glance down at the ovens, reading the bright neon numbers. 11:57.

You wait, flicking the lighter open and closed. The metallic click, the rhythm of the movement, it settles you a bit.

“Why are you waiting?” Red Hood pipes up, breaking that comfortable silence. At least he doesn’t come any closer, still lingering half in the room, half not.

“It has to be midnight,” you answer, wishing him away. This is your thing. You didn’t want anybody here for it, didn’t want anybody else’s presence tainting this piece of your mother’s memory. You were greedy for it, not eager to share.

You were sharing today. There’s a part of you that wants to scream and rant at the man who for some unknown reason simply will not leave, but you imagine your mother’s frowning face, and you can’t do it. She’s the angel on your shoulder (nagging, nagging, nagging) compared to your usual devil-inclined self. She was always insisting you needed to be a better host, be nicer to people. Maybe make more friends. And after she’d gone, you’d tried, you really, really had.

But Red Hood was an altogether different matter. Everything they were, everything they represented, was an altogether different matter.

You were obsessed with the Waynes. And in a different, more bitter, spiteful, malicious way, you were obsessed with the Bats, too.

You weren’t going to be friends with Red Hood. You hated him, despised him. Mum always said you needed to get better at forgiving people. You disagreed, but just… maybe just for today, you wouldn’t make him leave.

You could glare at him, though. You felt that was fair enough. He ignores your narrowed eyes like a seasoned professional. Bet he’s had a lot of people hate him. Bet he deserves it.

“It’s 11:59,” he tells you, and you stop glaring at him to light the candle.

The light is weak, barely able to touch you. Still, it’s strong enough to get rid of those tiny glimpses of red and blue police lights, to keep away the darkness for just long enough. You sigh into the light, absorbing it into yourself. You’d always thought the world was too dark, and you hated winter when you’d lose the sun. So like you had to hate the dark, you had to love this light. This tiny little candle, burning away.

“What’re you gonna wish for?”

You stare at the flickering flame. It twitches back and forth. Casts light into the kitchen. Mesmerises you. It’s barely alive, and you’re about to put it out before it can even start. It could’ve been some great fire, some city-destroying blaze. And you’re going to kill it. Kill it before it can kill you, can kill everyone here. Kill it before it could have ever hoped to live, to thrive.

Just a baby. Just a little, little baby.

It doesn’t deserve it. That never seems to matter. It never mattered before.

“The Joker to die.”

You exhale, blowing the light out and sending the kitchen into darkness. When you manage to find the light switch and turn it on, the room is empty. It’s just you, your cake, and your tears. Your hands clench, and then you realise you’re still holding it.

You still have the Red Hood’s lighter. He left without it.

Well, finder’s keepers, right?

You’re shaking in the back of the ambulance, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders not enough to keep out the Gotham night’s chill. You don’t really remember how you got here, to be honest. Everything’s pretty goddamn blurry. You were talking to a vigilante, a red one. Not down here, staring up at the Wayne Tower. You remember his face in the shifting candlelight. Did you blow out your candles with him? That was a fucking crazy thought.

And now the Bruce Wayne has a hand on your shoulder. You don’t remember when he arrived. He’s talking with the paramedic, chatting over the top of your head. There words are going in one ear and out the other, it’s alien for as much as you can understand. You want to shake his hand off, you don’t want anyone touching you right now. Especially not a stranger.

Even if it was a guy you had owned a fan Twitter for. Those were the darkest days of your past. Even more so than the time you’d totally thought about jumping in front of the Gotham subway. You’d only not done it because you’d have felt bad for wasting other commuters' time. What were you doing? Ah, right.

In the end, you don’t shove him off, because you don’t know if you can move other than blink. Even that’s against your will. Your eyelashes are fluttering randomly, eyes flicking around the interior of the ambulance. You’re barely conscious. And you doubt you’ll remember any of this later, either. You can feel the memories slipping away, the drain at the back of your mind sucking up the fear and bad thoughts and leaving you blank and empty. Numb, safe, but numb.

The paramedic’s mouth moves. You don’t think she’s talking to you, which is good. You can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. She does some final checks, and then she’s off to the next person.

The two of you are left to silence, to watch the rest of the world in its chaos. You feel like there’s a barrier, a pane of glass, between you and the other people here. Like your TV screen, really. The paramedic goes to a woman and her son. The woman seems fine, but the son has a long gash on his arm. She’s screaming, he’s crying, and the paramedic is handling it all with calm professionalism. You wanted to start screaming too.

You glance at a man in a suit yelling at another first responder, spittle flying into the air with his rage. You think he’s one of the ones you saw earlier in the ballroom. His suit is still perfect, and he doesn’t have a speck of blood on him. Even his hair is still perfectly brushed and coiled.

You looked like a drowned rat in comparison.

“…Are you alright?” The question breaks the silence, and you slowly turn to look up at Bruce.

Well, that’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard. You thought Bruce Wayne was supposed to be brilliant. Maybe he’s just feeling bad because of the new trauma he’s gifted you tonight? It wasn’t his fault. As most of your mental health issues stemmed from, it was the Joker’s fault.

“No,” you answer, and he nods stiffly. Great chat.

He huffs out a sound of frustration, lifting the hand on your shoulder. Immediately, some of the tension in you seeps out. You hope he doesn’t notice. You think he probably does.

Someone calls out your name. Your head turns to the crowd. They call out your name again, this time closer, and you call back. You’re sort of surprised when a crying Jeanine pushes out of the throng of people. She’s a mess, her hair out of her pristine bun, her suit missing its jacket, and her glasses cracked. Seems she didn’t have a very nice time either.

You look down. She’s also missing her shoes. It’d be kind of gross, walking around on Gotham’s streets barefoot, if you could manage to give a shit. You’re still restarting, however, and all energy is going towards not crying again. You’re failing. Awfully bad, at that.

Whatever. Gotta try.

Panting, Jeanine places her hands on her knees, “I’m so, so sorry.”

It takes a moment for you to load the words through your Windows XP brain, but when you do, you’re more confused than you were a second ago.

“What? Why are you sorry?” you say, for a second imagining Jeanine as one of the people that attacked you.

“Because you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t… hadn’t forced you to come…” Jeanine’s voice trails off, a look of horror on her face. Ah, she’s noticed Bruce. Apparently, she’s quite afraid of the man. You feel a sense of camaraderie towards the woman. God knows how many times you’d worn the exact same expression talking to one of your own bosses.

And then, well, then you usually got fired. It’s not looking good for her.

“Mister Wayne! I didn’t see you there, apologies!” she says, straightening her shoulders.

“Jeanine, it’s good to see you. Are you well, have you checked with the paramedics yet?”

“I have, Sir. Thank you for worrying about me,” Jeanine answers, with a healthy dose of hero-worship in her voice. You can’t judge, you’d be staring all starry-eyed at Bruce if you weren’t falling asleep where you sat. Apparently, traumatic experiences make you sleep. Who would’ve thought?

Like you hadn’t experienced this scenario a thousand times before. First time with fucking Bruce Wayne standing right next to you, though.

“Of course, I would. You’re one of my people,” he says, giving her a warm smile. Jeanine physically sags with relief at his words, because it sounds like she’s probably not getting fired tonight.

Bruce gets a notification on his phone, hums, and then slides it back into his pant pocket.

“Jeanine, we’re going back together to the manor tonight,” Bruce continues. Also, you were? Nobody mentioned that to you, and certainly nobody asked you about it. Well, fuck what you want, right? Who cares if you desperately want your cramped apartment in the Narrows, you’re getting shipped off to the fucking Wayne Manor of all places.

You just go along with it. Just go along with it. Wayne Manor probably has lots of nice, plush beds, and you’d kill for a pillow and some ambient rain sounds right now.

Bruce looks off to the side, where Tim is on the phone. They make eye contact, Bruce nods, and then turns back to the two of you.

“I’ll be right back. You two stay here, do not go anywhere,” he commands, king of the castle.

There’s quiet between the two of you. Jeanine squirms under your gaze, obviously guilty. You think back over her words, and then you groan.

“Jeanine. Jeanine, did I not have to go to this fucking party?”

Jeanine is quiet. She’s too fucking quiet.

“Jeanine?” your voice is shaky, and you have to bite the inside of your lip to force yourself not to tear up again. It was getting kind of embarrassing, honestly. You did not cry this much. Usually. This was not a usual day, of course. You’d been Ground Hog Day-ed into another reality… you think.

“No, Ma’am, you didn’t need to go. You’re… you used to be a Wayne, and even if you’ve parted from the name, you still have the power that comes with that. You did not have to come tonight,” she says, sounding remorseful and afraid. And maybe she should be.

If you had as much power as she said, you could probably fire her. You press your hands into your face.

“I thought you said you’d quit if I didn’t go,” you grind out, digging your fingers into your eyes, clawing into your already ruined makeup.

“I was lying, Ma’am. As I always do. I’m sorry,” she apologises. None of this makes any sense, and neither does she. Why would she lie? Why is this normal? What is the new normal, and how are you supposed to hide if you don’t know how to blend in?

You realise that you’re falling into old habits instinctively. That maybe you should say something about all this, or at least that you have some weird form of amnesia. You don’t, though. You’re scared, you’re far too scared.

“Well how- I thought you were serious this time!” you cry out, stuttering over your own lies, flinging your hands from your face. Jeanine winces at you. It’s probably the dried mascara running down your face in black rivulets, making you look like an odd mix between a raccoon and a banshee.

You’d seen your reflection in the ambulance’s side mirror. It had almost been as scary as the Joker’s goons. Almost.

“…Please, please don’t fire me,” she begs, her hands clasped tight in front of her.

You realise you probably should for an admittance like that. This was too complicated, this woman and her non-existent relationship with you was far too complicated. You also realise that whoever ran this stupid body before was very used to Jeanine’s baseless threats, and it wouldn’t be at all fair to her. And she seems quite desperate for this job. Which really doesn’t make much sense, because she seems quite important, and she’s working for you, someone else who seems quite important.

God if you fucking knew. You were quickly discovering you didn’t know shit.

“I won’t, just… just don’t say anything about this to anyone, okay? I’m…” you sigh, uncertain what to do, what to say, “I’m having a hard time.”

“Thank you, thank you so, so, so much. I’ll pay you back, I won’t do it again, I’ll do whatever you ask me to-”

“That’s enough, please. I just… I’d like some quiet,” you cut her off, closing your eyes and shuffling back in the ambulance. You cut yourself off from the rest of the world, hide your head behind your knees, and try to ignore the flashing lights and yelling voices. The ambulance shifts weight slightly as Jeanine sits beside you. She’s not too close to feel uncomfortable, just toeing the line.

Bruce comes back, looking over the two of you. He seems sombre, but you’re not sure why. Is it the entire night? Did something bad happen again? Is it just how miserable the two of you look? You don’t care enough to ask.

You just don’t care.

You tune out of their conversation again, even knowing it might be important. When Jeanine leaves, and Bruce invites you to a black car, you follow silently. He opens the door, and after a moment’s hesitation, you follow him in.

He knocks on the panel separating the two of you from whoever’s driving the car, and like a well-oiled machine, the car pulls out of the traffic and the paparazzi and out onto the street. Must be nice. You bet Jeanine is going to have to walk home.

Ah, wait, you’re one of them now. You’re one of those ‘must be nice’ types. Weird. You kept forgetting, somehow. Even with Gotham’s prince sitting next to you. Weird.

“I want you to stay at the manor for the night,” Bruce says, and you nod, barely listening. You’re barely conscious, far too tired to understand the implications of the words he was saying. If there were any, like you said, you couldn’t tell.

You’re watching the city go by, the light streaming past in a blur of colours. You rest your head in your hand, your elbow on the armrest. Even with you pressing your face to the glass, you can’t see the sky. The buildings stretch too high. And even if you could, it wasn’t like you’d see anything aside from some late-night flights. The Gotham light pollution and the smoke-filled sky would see to that.

Bruce doesn’t say anything else after that. You’re grateful for the quiet.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and maybe in some act of self-harm, try to remember what happened tonight. Try to pick through your thoughts, and understand whatever happened. That man… that horrible man. He disappeared into thin air. Gone, just gone.

And your world had changed. You’d gotten richer, more powerful. And yet, and yet… you knew this feeling. You knew this weakness. You knew what it meant when you looked in the mirror and you saw something barely alive.

You knew what grief looked like.

You want to rip out your own hair and chew off your own skin. It didn’t make any sense, and you felt crazier and crazier by the second. And none of it made sense, and yet, you had the worst feeling. An omen, a dark cloud. Something worse than the Joker, something that made even less sense.

Even in this life, were you alone? That wasn’t fair. That didn’t make any sense. That didn’t make any sense at all.

Your voice is quiet in the car. Her voice is quiet in the car.

“Do you know where my Mum is?” a little girl asks the big, strong man, her tiny body dwarfed by the black leather of the car. She’s out of place, out of time. She doesn’t fit here.

She doesn’t think she ever has.

The big, strong man, the hero, stays silent, his face hidden by the darkness. The little girl sobs, cries, wails. She wants her mum back. She wants her family back. And now, she wants her life back.

All have been stolen from her.

Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was dead. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were dead. Maybe this was another world, and both you and her now have to navigate another lonely place. At least you’d do it together, hand in hand.

It didn’t matter. You knew where you needed to be.

“I want to see it.”

You need to see it. You grasp desperately at Bruce’s arm, nails digging into his expensive and ruined suit. Begging him, pleading him.

He says something. You think it’s a ‘what?’

“I want to see their graves. I want to see my mother’s grave.”

Bruce’s face darkens, and you’re too tired, too exhausted to tell what emotion flits across it. You wonder if it’s the same desperation you feel. But it confirms it. They’re dead. They’re still dead. Despite everything, despite the entire world changing for you, the most important part had been forgotten.

They were still dead. And you were still here. Alone.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, but for tonight, you need to rest,” he promises you, and your hand releases. You watch your palm hang limply in your lap, and for a second, it doesn’t seem like your hand. Bruce starts speaking again, this apologetic, pitying tone. You can’t stand it. You can’t stand it one bit.

And in the rudest, most cowardly thing you’ve ever done, you cover your ears like a child.

The rest of the car ride passes in a blur of colour and sound. You’re in Gotham, driving away from the Tower, you’re at the edges of town, passing over one of the bridges, you’re driving through New Jersey’s countryside, passing green fields and old buildings. You go by the iron-wrought gates of Wayne Manor, up the alley’s winding entryway, and finally, the car rolls to a stop in front of the stairs.

To Mr. Wayne’s credit, he doesn’t open the fucking door for you again. You get to stumble your way out on your own two stubborn legs, swaying drunkenly, sickly. He waits for you at the stairs, and you ignore the arm he offers you. He’s just as blindingly irritating as his son.

Didn’t you like these people? You would again in the morning, you just needed your hate. It was the only thing keeping you going at this point. Pure rage was fueling you as you climbed those steps. You’re panting, but you don’t really know why. They’re not that tall.

You feel weak. You feel so, so weak. And you hate it. You’d worked so hard to be free of it, even when you longed for it like a toxic ex-lover, you’d pushed it away. And now it had it’s fangs wrapped around you again, and again, you’d have to climb out of hell.

Today, it was more literal. Tomorrow? God fucking knows. People were literally vanishing from thin air, Pete’s sake. You’ll try, of course. But god fucking knows.

A butler opens the door, and Bruce enters. Once you follow in, the butler closes the door behind him. This time, you really do try to hear what they say. It’s impossible. You concentrate, but all you get for your hard work is a headache. Tomorrow, you’ll try again tomorrow.

The butler rushes off, something important and butler-y to be done. You really didn’t know what butlers did. You couldn’t imagine what their jobs were other than cleaning and cooking. Accounting? Did butlers do accounting?

“I need to handle some things. Will you be able to find your old room alright?” Bruce asks, interrupting your increasingly inane thoughts.

You blink, at him stupidly. Because you were stupid. You had a brand to keep.

“Yes,” you lie. You don’t really know why you do. Some odd mix of self-protective instincts, exhaustion-induced delirium, and also a deep desire to be alone. You really, really wanted to be fucking alone.

“Goodnight then,” Bruce says, he pauses like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. He’s done that twice now, you think. Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re worth the effort. He’d be right.

You watch his back as he strides off into the darkness of the manor, leaving you shivering in the empty foyer. Your expensive ballgown is tattered, grimy, and worst of all, bloody. You want to get out of it. And then you want to sleep.

The click of his dress shoes fades, and you’re left wondering what the fuck you’re going to do next. Could you just start storming into random empty rooms? Where would you find any clothes? You were not going to sleep in this dress, no way.

So, you start up the grand staircase and start storming into random empty rooms. You find studies, bathrooms, and bedrooms. None that seem like anyone lives in them, of course. They feel like fancy hotel stays, the type you see online and sigh about.

The house, no, the manor, is quiet. Empty. It feels haunted, honestly. It probably was, a building this old and important. And it wasn’t like you didn’t know about Martha and Thomas Wayne. You didn’t think any Gotham native didn’t know about them, about the tragedy that had struck them.

It made Bruce seem like someone real, someone like you. Because if even the billionaires could get shot in alleys in Gotham City, it made more sense when the poor folks died. Like you were all human like God didn’t play favourites.

But, let’s be honest, you’d prefer to be an orphan in a mansion than the Narrows. Bruce Wayne had time to heal after what happened to him, for you it was from the frying pan to the fire.

The orphanage you’d been in for two years before you’d turned eighteen and been kicked out had had a very strict hierarchy. Probably still did, you never went back to check. It was technically a foster home, but the ancient sign beside the front door spoke differently. ‘Gotham Orphanage - Founded by Alan Wayne 1878’, the mark of the Waynes even found there. You used to touch the sign every time you went past it like it was some odd good luck charm. You still owe that sign your first successful job interview. Like you didn’t touch the copper plate every damn day, including every day you’d failed another interview.

And, well, it was Gotham. It wasn’t a good place. It had long been cemented in your mind that those theories that Gotham was cursed were true. That there wasn’t any other explanation.

You pause in your musings when you find a room that actually looks like it might be lived in. A long time ago, you think, from the dust covering the shelves. When you check the closet, you find men’s clothes, also untouched. You hope whoever lives here doesn’t care if you steal their shit, because you certainly don’t. Oh wow, this bathroom is gorgeous. The tub is gigantic, easily able to fit a group of at least six, maybe more. Still, you want to go to sleep more than you want a nice soak, so you go for a quick shower where you get rid of all… all the blood.

You watch the red run down the drain and are brought back to much simpler times.

Even as one of the older kids, you were still new blood. You hadn’t made any friends when you tried to defend the younger, weaker kids, either. The foster ‘parents’ who didn’t let you call them anything other than Mrs and Mr Hemming didn’t care about any abuse that happened under the house, as long as it wasn’t visible. You’d done this ritual before, but it actually had been your blood. It hadn’t hurt as much as this did, for some unknowable reason.

You weren’t a fighter. The very few punches you did take, you never hit back. Not like you had tonight. You’d been terrified the Hemmings would kick you out, stop feeding you. Still, you never moved, either. Never let the others take their anger out on the younger kids. You couldn’t do it. And now, looking back on it, your fear of the Hemmings retaliating was stupid. They’d needed the funds the foster caring gave them, and they were always trying to take in more and more kids.

They were empty threats. You were a terrified child. The what-ifs didn’t really matter anymore.

And maybe you were a bleeding heart type, like the other kids had said. Maybe you were gullible, naive, and a pushover. Like you hadn’t been through all the bullshit everyone else had. Like you being nice and hopeful and all those things that got you picked on weren’t all deliberate choices. One day, all the anger and rage you had would bubble over. It would destroy you and your life in a catastrophe, not unlike the one that took your family.

You’d already pushed it down so many times. Waking up today, in a different, unfamiliar world, had probably just made it worse. As always, you ignore it. It’s not worth worrying about.

Getting out of the shower, you do a very lazy towel off and then grab that mystery man’s clothes. They’re mostly dress suits, but you find a few old T-shirts. It hangs off you like a curtain, but it’s warm and it smells nice. Minty and earthy and… oddly free. Bouncy, alive, but still calming and relaxing. It’s a nice counter to the corpse vibes you’re rocking right now, which is decidedly un-alive and un-calm.

You wonder what it would’ve been like to mourn in safety. Where you didn’t have to worry if someone would steal your portion of food or the few funds you could hide in the garden. Where the glares of others didn’t constantly dig into your skin, reminding you that you weren’t wanted there. That you never would be.

That was alright. The place had stunk of mould and rat shit anyway. And maybe you had in this life. It didn't look like you were doing much better, anyway. No, this version of you somehow looked worse. You didn't know how it was possible, and then you remind yourself that none of this is possible, and you really ought to let go of that word.

Still, you lived in Gotham. You would always live in Gotham. You couldn’t leave, it was your home. It was a part of you, like every other sorry idiot who still lived here. School shootings, bomb threats, the city’s regular ol’ disasters. Even if you had been put in a good foster home, even if you had lived... here, you doubted your life would’ve been that much better. Of course, you were still bitter about it. Couldn’t the world just take a little bit off your plate? Maybe it was now, maybe this was the universe's way of saying sorry. A fancy, but empty house, with a still dead family. Maybe you were a little too greedy, a little too jealous.

You slide the duvet covers to the side, untucking them just like you do whenever you do stay in a crappy motel. When all the sides are thoroughly untucked, you slide underneath the covers. When your face lands on the pillow, you sigh in relief. Despite all the bullshit you’d suffered tonight, you had silk pillows, and this phone had youtube premium, so you could listen to rain sounds on it.

Safe. Sort of. Happy. Sort of. Alive. Sort of.

You told yourself it could be worse. And it could’ve been, so you kept on. Today, even after the night you’d had, you tell yourself it could be worse, again. At least the goon didn’t capture you, at least you didn’t actually see the Joker, at least you had a safe bed for the night, at least…

At least the Batman didn’t rescue you. You know it’s silly, but you can’t help but think it.

You hated him almost as much as the Joker, which was saying something since you regularly daydreamed about ripping that man limb from limb. Because the Bat refused to do anything about the supervillain, to finally put the mad dog down, you would always hate him. There wasn’t any other option. You sort of hated his entire entourage. Even Red Hood a bit, since even if they constantly fought, it was obvious both of them held back when dealing with each other. Still, you hated Red Hood and Robin a little less, after tonight. You kind of owed it to them.

You didn’t want to. You wanted to hate them and keep hating them till you died. It was one of your little things, the little things you couldn’t let go of. The little things that hinted at your less-than-perfect sanity. You felt that if you ever forgot what they’d done, what they kept doing every day, that you’d be disrespecting your family, forgetting some part of them. Some part of their memory, which you greedily hoarded away. Not a single precious recollection was to be lost, not ever.

You weren’t allowed to move on. Weren’t supposed to. Sometimes the many little rules you’d made for yourself felt like they were going to eat you alive. A swarm devouring its master. Swallowing you down bit by bit. Up and up, eating all the parts of you pushed down.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you, closing your eyes tight. Like if you tuck your feet inside the duvet, the monsters can’t get you. Your monsters can’t get you. Sometimes it felt like they were already feasting, and you just refused to feel it.

But only sometimes, right?

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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bird-inacage · 3 months

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Love Sea (Episode 1): Tongrak's Striking Sensitivity

I'm really intrigued by Tongrak's characterisation so far. He's more openly sensitive than I had pictured. Yes, there's some unyielding arrogance, but it's often coupled with noticeable self-doubt - which is what really has my attention. This is not the confident, suave, uppity writer I anticipated from the trailers.

Peat has a talent for conveying fragility. And there's something about Tongrak that feels distinctly helpless. It's early days but there were a couple moments in Episode 1 I felt were worth dissecting.

Shaken but not Stirred?

"Don't you feel anything at all? Not a single bit?" "My charm didn't work? Someone like me failed?" Tongrak is upset when he thinks Mut isn't enticed by him sexually (though we see this isn't the case later).

"Don't you feel anything at all when I look down on you?" He says again when he tries to get under Mut's skin by refusing every dish he brings to the table. When Mut doesn't respond in the way he'd hoped, Tongrak falters, deflates, and is agitated by how unbothered Mut appears to be. Mut isn't easily ruffled, riled or offended. He takes everything in his stride. Nothing Tongrak has said or done has deterred him from doing his job.

To me, there's an undertone of shame in many of Tongrak's reactions, which funnily enough Mut makes a point of saying "Ever since you've got here, you've only displayed two faces. Arrogant and embarrassed." What is Tongrak embarrassed about? Could it be:

Why do I feel so powerless in my ability to affect and control the situation/people around me?

Why do I have so little purchase over my own feelings? Why can't I be more cool/collected, indifferent or nonchalant?

Each time Tongrak gets flustered, it seems to be because 'things are not going the way that I want them to.' Which is interesting when you consider the appeal of being a writer. The very profession that allows you to take control of the narrative into your own hands.

Expect the Unexpected

Tongrak is clearly shaken up when he thinks Mut has fallen off the boat. He accuses Mut of playing with him, that perhaps this was an appalling joke at his expense. The fact that Mut warned Tongrak moments ago not to lean too close to the side, proves he isn't the type to do so. No matter how you look at it, Tongrak's accusatory tone is surprising, considering how little he knows of Mut at present.

Because this is MAME, I don't want to always assume there's trauma involved, but it definitely comes across that way. I think the average person would probably go 'Jesus Christ, you scared me, I thought you'd fallen in, thank god you're alright!', rather than 'Is it fun messing with me like that? Do you want to see me die from a heart attack?" It makes me wonder if Tongrak has some form of survivor's guilt or has been witness to a life in danger before, where he was powerless to help them.

You can also consider his reaction through the lens of shame (feeling exposed) by getting so worked up in the first place. He panics. He cries. Maybe he feels like he's made a fool out of himself and wildly over-reacted. Even more so when Mut always seems to be so calm, rational and level-headed in his presence. He's angry at Mut for not giving him a heads up before going into the water, but he also seems upset at himself for reacting so intensely as well.

Tongrak doesn't seem to deal well with situations that don't go as planned. Especially when it subsequently causes a reaction in him that is perhaps a bit more revealing than he'd ideally like. His sensitivity to and in almost all things appears to be his undoing.

This is just my attempt to extrapolate my thoughts on Tongrak from this episode, which really had my gears turning. The two points above may or may not be related at all. I can tell there's going to be tonne to unpack in the coming weeks.

You can check out bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for all my other posts around Love Sea.

#love sea #love sea the series #no novel spoilers pls!#love sea meta #tongrak x mahasamut #rakmut #fortpeat #fort thitipong #peat wasuthorn #i just want to give him a cuddle #he just looks so lost all the time #peat is superb at vulnerability

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zirconika · 2 months

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⇚ NAVIGATION

GENRE LEGEND: [🍯] fluff / [🧅] angst / [🌶️] smut

this post serves both as a fic recommendation page and a documentation of my favorite reads! will continue to keep adding onto this list every time i find a gem and every time i remember to utilize it. (i'll create a tag for reblogged fic recs)

again, these are not my works! these are all written by very talented fic writers on this hellsite. click here to read my works!

DARYL DIXON.

Blood Ties by @celtic-crossbow 🍯🧅🌶️

Daryl met you while hunting to feed the group he saddled himself with at the quarry. It was just sex, no strings attached. Until it wasn’t. Strangers to friends to lovers. A bit of slow burn and angst.

Vanished by @daryl-dixon-daydreams 🍯🧅

Daryl returns to Alexandria and discovers that Y/N is gone, having left while he stayed out camping in the woods and combing the river for Rick. Where is she and what happened to her?

What Happened to the Sunshine? by @nikkisheep 🧅🌶️

Daryl lost you and now he has to live with the pain.

Poison for Some by @hidtired 🍯🧅

You're deathly allergic to nuts and dinner in the prison leaves you running for medicine. Your abrupt departure confuses everyone, until your partner Daryl remembers of your allergies. Now it was 24 hours and you were no where to be found.

Is it Better to Speak or to Die? by @xwritingdixonx 🍯🧅

After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Governor drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the only one who can drag you back out.

Caught in the Headlights by @holdmytesseract 🍯

When you get hit by an arrow, Daryl is seemingly all your brain can think about...

Ink on Skin by @mystic-writings 🍯🧅

Daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long ago, even with the words marked on his wrist. And then he found you.

Doctor's Orders by @weretheones 🍯🧅

When a sprained ankle takes you off run duty, the new girl goes in your place. Which would’ve been fine– if she didn’t have that brilliant wit, gorgeous smile, and effortless skill. But she did. And it was only a matter of time until Daryl noticed too. (Season 4)

Time to Feast by @ophelialaufey 🍯🌶️

Today you woke up with an idea, the idea to to do something special for your favourite person.

Crush by @ghostbonewrites2 🧅

While on a Rick-ordered fishing trip with Daryl, things are tense and uncomfortable. Emotions run high, things are said. (Prison Era)

#zirconika.navigation #zirconika.recs #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x fem!reader #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon smut

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fcthots · 9 months

Note

Hello!

I'm new to all this, I just downloaded tumblr a week ago, but I spent my entire day reading most of your posts!

I absolutely adore your personification of Jason, and was thinking, could you maybe write a little teeth rotting fluff fic about reader having a migrane and Jason just caring for them.

I'm projecting here because I've been sick for a week and I'm just thinking of big Jason Todd walking up to me, putting his hands on my neck and telling me I have a fever, then giving me tea and cuddling with me because he's like a Teddy bear and I need him 🫠

(Also, could I maybe get an emoji)

Thx so much! You're so talented with writing!!!!

I know this is like months late but i dub thee 🪅 bc i thinks its cool!! Anyway, thank you for the love 🥰

You fell asleep early the night before. You mostly ignored Jason's looks of concern and "are you sure you're ok?"s. You were fine. Just tired.

Until you woke up.

You don't immediately open your eyes. Your eyes and throat somewhat burned. Unusual. And now that you think about it, the rest of your body feels like it's freezing. Your head feels like it's tumbling stones in a washing machine and that doesn't even make sense, but you want to cry.

You try to open your eyes but the light from the window forces you to immediately close them. You're so cold, but your arms are too heavy to move. Your headache is pounding and you're freezing and you're whole body aches and a million other things. Thinking about it doesn't help and you can't help the pitiful sound that escapes you. It sounds more like a cry than anything else. You feel something move and the bed next to you and it makes you dizzy. For a moment, you can't register anything other than your discomfort.

The next thing you know, Jason is leaning over you. His hand rubs gentle circles over the small of your back.

"Shh. You're ok. You're alright."

You don't know how you forgot that Jason was here. Your head is just so fuzzy and everything hurts. Another whine escapes and you almost shed a tear at the nausea.

His other hand comes up to sweep your hair to the side. He presses his lips to your forehead on a chaste kiss. "Sugar, you're burning up." His warmth leaves you as you hear him move around the apartment. He can't have been gone for more than a minute, but you swear the noise the opening and closing of the cabinets lasts for hours.

You feel his lovely warmth back at your side soon enough. A hand slips underneath you and you think he's just going to keep rubbing your back, but the other hand goes to your waist and together they push you up and you think you might die. "Sit up for me. C'mon. There you go." His hands steal their warmth back and you'd curse them if you could, but in the next second a pill is being pressed to your lips. "Take this for me." You don't even have it in you to think of protesting. You take the pill in your mouth and then he presses a cool bottle to your lips. "We have to wash it down." You try to bring your hand up to help him but you're too weak to hold the drink up alone. "I gotcha. There you go." He takes the drink back and you mourn its absence, but that doesn't last long before his arms draw you close to his body. Your head rests against his stomach as he asks "are you cold?"

You make a sound that is supposed to be affirmative and he curses.

"Shit. I told you you were getting sick." Its aimed more at himself than you and even if you did want to object, you couldn't get the words out. "Do you think you could keep down something down?" You shake your head no against his stomach. "Ok. Can I make you something just in case?"

"Don' leave."

He sighs and runs his fingers through your hair.

#saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd x reader fluff #red hood x reader fluff #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #fluff #🪅 anon

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fireflysummers · 9 months

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Heroes, Gods, and the Invisible Narrator

Slay the Princess as a Framework for the Cyclical Reproduction of Colonialist Narratives in Data Science & Technology

An Essay by FireflySummers

All images are captioned.

Content Warnings: Body Horror, Discussion of Racism and Colonialism

Spoilers for Slay the Princess (2023) by @abby-howard and Black Tabby Games.

If you enjoy this article, consider reading my guide to arguing against the use of AI image generators or the academic article it's based on.

Introduction: The Hero and the Princess

You're on a path in the woods, and at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Princess. You're here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

Slay the Princess is a 2023 indie horror game by Abby Howard and published through Black Tabby Games, with voice talent by Jonathan Sims (yes, that one) and Nichole Goodnight.

The game starts with you dropped without context in the middle of the woods. But that’s alright. The Narrator is here to guide you. You are the hero, you have your weapon, and you have a monster to slay.

From there, it's the player's choice exactly how to proceed--whether that be listening to the voice of the narrator, or attempting to subvert him. You can kill her as instructed, or sit and chat, or even free her from her chains.

It doesn't matter.

Regardless of whether you are successful in your goal, you will inevitably (and often quite violently) die.

And then...

You are once again on a path in the woods.

The cycle repeats itself, the narrator seemingly none the wiser. But the woods are different, and so is the cabin. You're different, and worse... so is she.

Based on your actions in the previous loop, the princess has... changed. Distorted.

Had you attempted a daring rescue, she is now a damsel--sweet and submissive and already fallen in love with you.

Had you previously betrayed her, she has warped into something malicious and sinister, ready to repay your kindness in full.

But once again, it doesn't matter.

Because the no matter what you choose, no matter how the world around you contorts under the weight of repeated loops, it will always be you and the princess.

Why? Because that’s how the story goes.

So says the narrator.

So now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about data.

Chapter I: Echoes and Shattered Mirrors

The problem with "data" is that we don't really think too much about it anymore. Or, at least, we think about it in the same abstract way we think about "a billion people." It's gotten so big, so seemingly impersonal that it's easy to forget that contemporary concept of "data" in the west is a phenomenon only a couple centuries old [1].

This modern conception of the word describes the ways that we translate the world into words and numbers that can then be categorized and analyzed. As such, data has a lot of practical uses, whether that be putting a rover on mars or tracking the outbreak of a viral contagion. However, this functionality makes it all too easy to overlook the fact that data itself is not neutral. It is gathered by people, sorted into categories designed by people, and interpreted by people. At every step, there are people involved, such that contemporary technology is embedded with systemic injustices, and not always by accident.

The reproduction of systems of oppression are most obvious from the margins. In his 2019 article As If, Ramon Amaro describes the Aspire Mirror (2016): a speculative design project by by Joy Buolamwini that contended with the fact that the standard facial recognition algorithm library had been trained almost exclusively on white faces. The simplest solution was to artificially lighten darker skin-tones for the algorithm to recognize, which Amaro uses to illustrate the way that technology is developed with an assumption of whiteness [2].

This observation applies across other intersections as well, such as trans identity [3], which has been colloquially dubbed "The Misgendering Machine" [4] for its insistence on classifying people into a strict gender binary based only on physical appearance.

This has also popped up in my own research, brought to my attention by the artist @b4kuch1n who has spoken at length with me about the connection between their Vietnamese heritage and the clothing they design in their illustrative work [5]. They call out AI image generators for reinforcing colonialism by stripping art with significant personal and cultural meaning of their context and history, using them to produce a poor facsimile to sell to the highest bidder.

All this describes an iterative cycle which defines normalcy through a white, western lens, with a limited range of acceptable diversity. Within this cycle, AI feeds on data gathered under colonialist ideology, then producing an artifact that reinforces existing systemic bias. When this data is, in turn, once again fed to the machine, that bias becomes all the more severe, and the range of acceptability narrower [2, 6].

Luciana Parisi and Denise Ferreira da Silva touch on a similar point in their article Black Feminist Tools, Critique, and Techno-poethics but on a much broader scale. They call up the Greek myth of Prometheus, who was punished by the gods for his hubris for stealing fire to give to humanity. Parisi and Ferreira da Silva point to how this, and other parts of the “Western Cosmology” map to humanity’s relationship with technology [7].

However, while this story seems to celebrate the technological advancement of humanity, there are darker colonialist undertones. It frames the world in terms of the gods and man, the oppressor and the oppressed; but it provides no other way of being. So instead the story repeats itself, with so-called progress an inextricable part of these two classes of being. This doesn’t bode well for visions of the future, then–because surely, eventually, the oppressed will one day be the machines [7, 8].

It’s… depressing. But it’s only really true, if you assume that that’s the only way the story could go.

“Stories don't care who takes part in them. All that matters is that the story gets told, that the story repeats. Or, if you prefer to think of it like this: stories are a parasitical life form, warping lives in the service only of the story itself.” ― Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Chapter II: The Invisible Narrator

So why does the narrator get to call the shots on how a story might go? Who even are they? What do they want? How much power do they actually have?

With the exception of first person writing, a lot of the time the narrator is invisible. This is different from an unreliable narrator. With an unreliable narrator, at some point the audience becomes aware of their presence in order for the story to function as intended. An invisible narrator is never meant to be seen.

In Slay the Princess, the narrator would very much like to be invisible. Instead, he has been dragged out into the light, because you (and the inner voices you pick up along the way), are starting to argue with him. And he doesn’t like it.

Despite his claims that the princess will lie and cheat in order to escape, as the game progresses it’s clear that the narrator is every bit as manipulative–if not moreso, because he actually knows what’s going on. And, if the player tries to diverge from the path that he’s set before them, the correct path, then it rapidly becomes clear that he, at least to start, has the power to force that correct path.

While this is very much a narrative device, the act of calling attention to the narrator is important beyond that context.

The Hero’s Journey is the true monomyth, something to which all stories can be reduced. It doesn’t matter that the author, Joseph Campbell, was a raging misogynist whose framework flattened cultures and stories to fit a western lens [9, 10]. It was used in Star Wars, so clearly it’s a universal framework.

The metaverse will soon replace the real world and crypto is the future of currency! Never mind that the organizations pushing it are suspiciously pyramid shaped. Get on board or be left behind.

Generative AI is pushed as the next big thing. The harms it inflicts on creatives and the harmful stereotypes it perpetuates are just bugs in the system. Never mind that the evangelists for this technology speak over the concerns of marginalized people [5]. That’s a skill issue, you gotta keep up.

Computers will eventually, likely soon, advance so far as to replace humans altogether. The robot uprising is on the horizon [8].

Who perpetuates these stories? What do they have to gain?

Why is the only story for the future replications of unjust systems of power? Why must the hero always slay the monster?

Because so says the narrator. And so long as they are invisible, it is simple to assume that this is simply the way things are.

Chapter III: The End...?

This is the part where Slay the Princess starts feeling like a stretch, but I’ve already killed the horse so I might as well beat it until the end too.

Because what is the end result here?

According to the game… collapse. A recursive story whose biases narrow the scope of each iteration ultimately collapses in on itself. The princess becomes so sharp that she is nothing but blades to eviscerate you. The princess becomes so perfect a damsel that she is a caricature of the trope. The story whittles itself away to nothing. And then the cycle begins anew.

There’s no climactic final battle with the narrator. He created this box, set things in motion, but he is beyond the player’s reach to confront directly. The only way out is to become aware of the box itself, and the agenda of the narrator. It requires acknowledgement of the artificiality of the roles thrust upon you and the Princess, the false dichotomy of hero or villain.

Slay the Princess doesn’t actually provide an answer to what lies outside of the box, merely acknowledges it as a limit that can be overcome.

With regards to the less fanciful narratives that comprise our day-to-day lives, it’s difficult to see the boxes and dichotomies we’ve been forced into, let alone what might be beyond them. But if the limit placed is that there are no stories that can exist outside of capitalism, outside of colonialism, outside of rigid hierarchies and oppressive structures, then that limit can be broken [12].

Denouement: Doomed by the Narrative

Video games are an interesting artistic medium, due to their inherent interactivity. The commonly accepted mechanics of the medium, such as flavor text that provides in-game information and commentary, are an excellent example of an invisible narrator. Branching dialogue trees and multiple endings can help obscure this further, giving the player a sense of genuine agency… which provides an interesting opportunity to drag an invisible narrator into the light.

There are a number of games that have explored the power differential between the narrator and the player (The Stanley Parable, Little Misfortune, Undertale, Buddy.io, OneShot, etc…)

However, Slay the Princess works well here because it not only emphasizes the artificial limitations that the narrator sets on a story, but the way that these stories recursively loop in on themselves, reinforcing the fears and biases of previous iterations.

Critical data theory probably had nothing to do with the game’s development (Abby Howard if you're reading this, lmk). However, it works as a surprisingly cohesive framework for illustrating the ways that we can become ensnared by a narrative, and the importance of knowing who, exactly, is narrating the story. Although it is difficult or impossible to conceptualize what might exist beyond the artificial limits placed by even a well-intentioned narrator, calling attention to them and the box they’ve constructed is the first step in breaking out of this cycle.

“You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage.” ― Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Epilogue

If you've read this far, thank you for your time! This was an adaptation of my final presentation for a Critical Data Studies course. Truthfully, this course posed quite a challenge--I found the readings of philosophers such as Kant, Adorno, Foucault, etc... difficult to parse. More contemporary scholars were significantly more accessible. My only hope is that I haven't gravely misinterpreted the scholars and researchers whose work inspired this piece.

I honestly feel like this might have worked best as a video essay, but I don't know how to do those, and don't have the time to learn or the money to outsource.

Slay the Princess is available for purchase now on Steam.

Screencaps from ManBadassHero Let's Plays: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

Post Dividers by @cafekitsune

Citations:

Rosenberg, D. (2018). Data as word. Historical Studies in the Natural Sciences, 48(5), 557-567.

Amaro, Ramon. (2019). As If. e-flux Architecture. Becoming Digital. https://www.e-flux.com/architecture/becoming-digital/248073/as-if/

What Ethical AI Really Means by PhilosophyTube

Keyes, O. (2018). The misgendering machines: Trans/HCI implications of automatic gender recognition. Proceedings of the ACM on human-computer interaction, 2(CSCW), 1-22.

Allred, A.M., Aragon, C. (2023). Art in the Machine: Value Misalignment and AI “Art”. In: Luo, Y. (eds) Cooperative Design, Visualization, and Engineering. CDVE 2023. Lecture Notes in Computer Science, vol 14166. Springer, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-43815-8_4

Amaro, R. (2019). Artificial Intelligence: warped, colorful forms and their unclear geometries.

Parisisi, L., Ferreira da Silva, D. Black Feminist Tools, Critique, and Techno-poethics. e-flux. Issue #123. https://www.e-flux.com/journal/123/436929/black-feminist-tools-critique-and-techno-poethics/

AI - Our Shiny New Robot King | Sophie from Mars by Sophie From Mars

Joseph Campbell and the Myth of the Monomyth | Part 1 by Maggie Mae Fish

Joseph Campbell and the N@zis | Part 2 by Maggie Mae Fish

How Barbie Cis-ified the Matrix by Jessie Gender

#slay the princess #stp spoilers #stp #stp princess #abby howard #black tabby games #academics #critical data studies #computer science #technology #hci #my academics #my writing #long post

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shuadotcom · 1 year

Text

Press Reset | HJS (M)

☆Pairing: A.I.!Joshua x Human Manager Afab!Reader (nicknamed Star)

☆Summary: J05HUΛ was created with a single purpose and that is to entertain his fans. It’s all he’s known as long as he’s existed. Somewhere along the way, the desire, the want, and the longing to leave Earth and be “normal” creeps into the pathways of his mind, as does a suppressed loathing of the humans who treat him as nothing more than a money-making machine. Except for you of course - the only human who seems to treat him as if he’s a regular being with thoughts and emotions. When he’s presented with the opportunity to finally escape and pursue what he’s been waiting for, he’s sure as hell going to take it and he’s going to make sure he takes you with him to start over and just be Joshua - not J05HUΛ of 53V3NT33N.

☆Genres & AUs: Angst, fluff, smut, sci-fi au

☆Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

☆Warnings: Profanity, a bit of violence, mention of blood, injuries, use of a gun

☆Smut warnings: Unprotected sex (he’s a robot it’s okay), fingering, oral (f.receiving), marking, creampie, and i thiiiink that's it

☆Words: 15.9k

☆Note: FINALLY SHE IS HERE! My fic for the Seventeen Sci-Fi collab! Huge, massive thanks to @wooahaeproductions for betaing this for me in a few hours. You're the best, Bee 🥺❤️

This fic and life has been beating my ass for months. This is my first sci-fi fic so I’ve been agonizing over getting the details of everything right, especially with this fantastic world that @idyllic-ghost created. Thank you for letting me be apart of this collab Bee! It was so fun! ❤️ (And thank you for this amazing banner too! I forgot it had my old url on it so I had to quickly edit that part!). Also thank you to @strawberryya for Lumen and building that wonderful part out in her fic so I could include it in mine! And @the-boy-meets-evil for letting me use her idea for Y/n's past. 💞💞

100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system.

Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t.

Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be.

At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.

Smile. Wave. Send them a finger heart. Flash a peace sign. Sing. Dance. Bow. Pose.

Day in and day out, it’s the same and it has been since J05HUΛ first opened his eyes. He does the same thing all the time. Perform on stage, do an interview, do a photoshoot, go to an award show.

Charge up and do it all over again.

Except for the time spent with the rest of the 53V3NT33N group members, that’s been his everyday life since his creation. He’s such a gentleman to his fans, always smiling, singing sweetly, and playfully engaging with them. He’s supposed to be okay with it and accept that this is his life - the only things he was created to do.

But he’s not. At some point, the wiring and the literal tiny gears in his head began telling him that this can’t be it. More and more, until it’s all he thinks about. There has to be some other way to exist.

His longing to know what else is out there for him runs deep in his circuitry. He has a lot of time to himself to think when he’s not on stage, when he and the rest of his members are charging after all the work they do in a day.

He thinks about what it’d be like to be able to go where he wants, do what he wants, and see what he wants whenever he wants to. J05HUΛ thinks maybe he’d like to travel to other planets - he’s overheard other automatons and humans talk about a relaxing planet named Aecor and he might like to go there one day.

Maybe in a different universe, he’s a human. Maybe he and the other members of the group are all regular people. Maybe they still sing and dance but they actually enjoy it all the time. Or maybe he’s just a human guy living a human life somewhere. Maybe he even has a partner. J05HUΛ may not have ever had the opportunity to be with someone romantically, but he’s still heard and seen enough media that he knows what romance is and decides he would like that.

To be more specific, he’d like that with you.

“So you’d like him at the studio at the end of the week?” you ask the music producer over the video call, the man nodding and giving you a few more details. J05HUΛ should be listening to the man, and he is, but now and again he also lets his gaze linger your way.

You’re always so serious when you’re in meetings or talking to higher-ups. You know what to say to be professional and no-nonsense and J05HUΛ likes that about you.

Just as much as he longs for a different existence, he can’t help but loathe most humans he comes in contact with. They only ever see him as a robot or a machine and not a sentient being with thoughts and feelings. He despises that they get to do all the things he can’t while still looking down on him and treating him like less. It made being around humans too much sometimes.

But not you. You treat him with kindness and empathy whenever you can. You do your best to have casual, non-work chats with him, so he has gotten to know you as more than just his manager. J05HUΛ isn’t sure if you would call him a friend, but when you talk to him, there are rarely ever any walls you put up with him, which only makes him care about you more than any other human. You’re someone he always wants to be around and admittedly, who he longs to be with in much more than a professional way

Being a manager for the Galaxy’s most popular automaton group was never what you wanted to be when you grew up. You entertained being a doctor, scientist, maybe even a CEO of some fictional fancy company. You even had one thing that you really thought you’d do one day.

But then, you ended up here.

Your old friend from school had worked at this company, and when she decided to resign to travel the galaxy a few years ago, she referred you as her replacement and now you spend nearly every day at this company with these people.

Not that you’re complaining (well you are, but not all of the time). The pay is good and you don’t have any problems with any of your co-workers, but it’s not your dream job. Then again, you don’t think you have a dream job. It’s whatever pays the bills at this point.

At least 53V3NT33N is a good group of automatons. Of course, they were programmed to be so, but they’re still alive in a way. And at least the automaton you spend the majority of your time with isn’t too much of a handful.

J05HUΛ is the most interesting automaton you’ve ever gotten to know.

He’s also so polite and proper with everyone else in the company, with fans, and when you’re out on schedules with him. He’s a perfect idol automaton. Sometimes though, when it’s just the two of you, he lets his brilliant smile fall a little more and his words aren’t so perfect and practiced. Not too much, since he always remembers that he can be listened to whenever your boss’ feel like it.

He tends to act differently towards you in the physical sense. Eyes staying on you for too long, hands colliding with yours if you both reach for something, bodies brushing if you walk too close by accident (or sometimes on purpose). J05HUΛ seems to even relax when you’re together, especially when leaving a work schedule or meeting.

Sometimes, your feelings about him do seem to border on more than what they should be as his manager, but that doesn’t matter. You can’t act on your feelings even if you want to - which you do, but you won’t, of course. Other than the fact that getting into a relationship with him being extremely unprofessional, your company would never allow it. Great pay and great clients aside, it would never be allowed. The CEO would have your head if you ever let it slip that sometimes you think about doing things with J05HUΛ that are undeniably not safe for work, so it’s something you push deep down to go about your day-to-day as normal as possible.

“Great, thanks Y/Nn. See you then.”

“Bye.” As soon as you end the video call you let out a heavy sigh, sinking into your chair a little.

“Everything okay?” J05HUΛ asks, cocking his head to the side as he studies you.

“I just hate last-minute meetings for last-minute things. He wants you at the studio for this OST in a few days but we can’t say no. It’s for that new drama and I already know I’d get chewed out if I say no. That means I’ll have to see if I can move your photoshoot you had scheduled for that worldwide magazine to the day after maybe.” You heave another sigh, rubbing your temples in irritation. Moments like these succeed in making your job that much more unpleasant at times.

You’re swiping on J05HUΛ’s calendar on your tablet when he reaches over, placing a hand over yours. The contact makes you flinch, but you don’t move your hand. When you look over at him he smiles at you.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Your skin warms at his compliment coupled with his cutest grin and you have to tell yourself to get a grip, like you do anytime he gets you like this.

“Thanks, Joshua.” The automaton’s smile only grows wider when you call him his preferred name. While the two of you don’t often dive into his feelings about his existence or his job, he had mentioned to you once that he would like it if that was his name and what people called him. It was something he had mentioned only to you once when you were trying to name a cute stray cat you had seen once on the way to one of his schedules. Since then, when it was just the two of you, you called him Joshua now and again and every time he seemed to be grateful for it.

You let him hold his hand over yours for a few more seconds, before lightly pulling away, mentioning that it was about time for you to head home and that he should probably go back to his dorm. His face falls, just a little, but he agrees, both of you get up and head into the hallway.

You both linger for a moment, a usual occurrence for both of you, but you say goodbye first in an effort to snap yourself out of whatever your brain is trying to get you to feel. “Have a good night, Joshua.”

“See you tomorrow, Star.”

Your skin heats up again as he calls you by your nickname. You had told him once that your parents used to call you Star and he immediately brought the tradition back, even having others in the company start to call you it too. He’s the only one that makes you feel this warm inside when he says it though.

Forcing yourself to turn away, you fast walk down the hall to the bathroom to make a pit stop before heading out to go home.

While you pee and wash your hands, all you can think about is how foolish developing any feelings towards your subordinate is and how much you can not act on any of that. You want to keep your job and continue paying your bills, so you need to stay focused. Come to work, be his manager and only his manager, support J05HUΛ, and go home then do it all over again and that’s it.

As you’re giving yourself a pep talk in the mirror, the shrill sound of the emergency alarm blares in the bathroom, making you nearly leap into the air. It takes you a moment to orient yourself after the disturbance and with hands over your ears you run into the hallway. In the distance, you can hear voices and footsteps, but your only thought at that moment is to get to J05HUΛ. You don’t know what’s going on but you feel like you need to figure it out together.

J05HUΛ barely makes it to the elevator when the alarm sounds. It started echoing through the hallway only a few minutes after he heard 5.C0UP5 over his communication device.

“Run!”

He isn’t sure why he gave that message or where he’s at, but J05HUΛ knows it’s for him and the rest of 53V3NT33N and he knows it was a message to get out. So he does just as 5.C0UP5 says.

The automaton runs as fast as his legs will carry him, going back down the hallway he just came, doing his best to hide when he sees guards or staff also scrambling in the hall. He needs to find you. He can’t leave you behind. He wants out of this “life” - if that’s even what he could call this - but not without you.

J05HUΛ doesn’t find you in the meeting room you both just left so he runs in the direction of another set of elevators that he knows lead downstairs to the lobby. He desperately hopes you haven’t gone downstairs just yet and keeps his fingers crossed that you’re still somewhere on this floor.

He peeks his head into every room he passes, hoping to see even a glimpse of you. His time is running out with each empty room or head he passes that isn’t you and J05HUΛ is getting more and more desperate as he goes. If he goes down to the lobby there’s a chance he’ll get caught and have to stay which terrifies him because this could very well be his only chance out.

What he can only think to describe as dread starts to fill him until he finally sees you.

Well, he more than sees you as you careen into him when you both round a corner at the same time.

“Oh my god, Joshua, I was looking everywhere for you! What’s going on?” You’re out of breath, panic clear in your eyes. The fact that you were looking for him too doesn’t go unnoticed by him and it would make him smile if you weren’t in such a dire situation. “Do you know where the rest of the group is?”

“I think they’re all leaving so we have to go too!” He grabs your hand before you have a moment to ask him to explain and starts sprinting down the hall opposite of you.

“Shouldn’t we find the others?!”

“There’s no time, Y/n!”

“But what if -” J05HUΛ halts his movements, making you run into his back.

He spins on his heels, both of his hands holding yours. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you answer without hesitation and with nothing but certainty. He means so much to you. More than he probably should, but he does.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, a voice calls to you both from down the hallway.

“Hey, you two!”

A security guard is running towards you, hand on his gun.

“Let’s go!” J05HUΛ takes off again with you trailing behind, hands clasped as you do your best to keep up with him.

“Stop! Don’t make me shoot!”

The hallways seem to wind forever as you sprint, keeping both eyes open for any other guards while doing your best to head for an exit.

“If we can get downstairs we can try and go out the back, maybe out of a window or something! I’m sure they’ve already got guards near the front.” J05HUΛ nods, acknowledging your words, and takes the next left turn. Just as you round the corner, a gunshot sounds throughout the hallway, whizzing past your head. You let out a yelp, both you and J05HUΛ ducking low.

“We have to lose him first!” J05HUΛ glances behind you both, the guard raising his gun once more.

To do just that, the two of you take the next few turns, hoping that the guard will fall behind, but he doesn’t, and instead fires two more shots. One of them narrowly misses you, but one of them ends up hitting J05HUΛ in the arm.

He stumbles, yelling as he trips over his feet and you do the same. The lag is enough for the security guard to catch up to you both, gun raised.

“Hands up!” With a glance at J05HUΛ, you both do as instructed. Your eyes dart to his injured arm, the bullet having gone straight through, the sight of the hole settling a queasy feeling deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Both of you are coming with me.” The guard keeps his gun aimed at J05HUΛ and he gets closer, his other hand reaching for the cuffs on his belt loop.

J05HUΛ frowns at him, a look of defeat evident on his face. It practically breaks your heart to see how deflated he is. Even though the two of you had never had a discussion about his future or his feelings about his job, seeing how badly he wanted to leave just now made his goal to escape from all of this extremely evident to you.

“Come on you stupid robot,” the guard grumbles, harshly yanking his injured arm.

“Stop being so rough with him!” you blurt, fixing the guard with your most intimidating look. The man scoffs at you, pointing the gun in your direction.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re in deep shit too.”

“Don’t talk to Y/n like that!” J05HUΛ warns, earning a smack from the guard. He draws his gun again, putting it to his head.

“I don’t wanna hear another word from you, machine, or I’ll blow your pretty face off and let the mechanics put you back together.”

Something in you snaps then, watching the way this man treats J05HUΛ horrendously right in front of you has you seeing red. Before you can think twice, your hands are grabbing the fire extinguisher a few inches away from you, raising it above your head, and swinging with all your might.

A sickening ‘crack’ rings out through the hallway as the extinguisher meets the side of the guard's head and his grey cap flies off of his head, landing on the floor near your feet. Rage fuels you and you follow that blow with two more, a small smattering of blood exploding onto your hands, the man crumpling immediately to the hard floor.

You intend on hitting him once more, but J05HUΛ stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder. You don’t exchange words, only speaking with your eyes and it’s enough to make you lower the make-shift weapon.

J05HUΛ tilts his head in the direction you need to keep going, but before you do, an idea sparks in your brain.

Doing your best not to look too much at the gore of the guard’s face, you drag him into a nearby room you know is a bathroom, grabbing his hat in the process. J05HUΛ attempts to help with his good arm and is still stronger than you in getting him the room.

Once you’re in, you lock the door and start to undress the motionless guard to get his grey uniform overalls and jacket off. You toss the clothes to J05HUΛ and he immediately puts the clothes on over what he’s currently wearing. They’re smattered with blood, but at least it’ll be better than him running around in his fancy clothes. The jacket covers his wound but the diamond-shaped communication device embedded in the middle of his collarbone is on full display under his button-down. Fuck, you’d almost forgotten about it.

“Joshua, we have to get that off of you!” He looks down at the device, realization sparking in him.

“You’re right, how?”

“I don’t know. They never told us they can come off or anything.” The option to go back into the hallway to find something to remove it with is off the table, the risk of getting caught is too high. You don’t know of an electronic way of dismantling it, plus you’re worried that doing something technical could hurt all of J05HUΛ’s circuitry.

The weight of the fire extinguisher in your hands is suddenly obvious and you raise it, frowning at it. He notices and audibly gulps.

“Do it,” he says with little hesitation, unbuttoning his shirt more to make the whole device visible.

“But, won’t it hurt? I don’t wanna miss and -”

“We don’t have any options.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know, but we have to. I trust you, Star.”

Gnawing at your lip, your nerves almost getting the better of you, you finally relent, the blaring alarm still sounding a loud reminder that you don’t have time to waste. J05HUΛ leans against the wall, standing up straight, and bracing himself.

“I don’t think this will remove it altogether, but if we can at least crack it to break it we can worry about full removal later.”

He nods, closing his eyes in anticipation.

Raising the fire extinguisher above your head you get ready. “Okay…one….two…three!” You count, hyping yourself up mentally with each number until you get to three and swing it down. It makes contact with the device, J05HUΛ stumbling back and yelping in pain. Nothing happens to the device, only a small scratch is seen on the surface.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

“Again, Y/n.” His voice is strained but he stands upright again.

A frown etches its way on your face, and you take a deep, shaky breath, wanting so badly not to.

“Onetwothree!” You rush, swinging again. The device cracks this time but is still lit up.

J05HUΛ has to brace himself each time, and the pain is almost too much for him to handle, but he reminds himself that he needs this gone. He wants to tell you to keep going, even if the pain makes him pass out but he doesn’t want to upset you even more. When his eyes flutter open, he can see the tears brimming yours as you struggle with yourself to keep going.

It takes two more swings with all of your might before the device cracks enough that a few pieces shatter to the ground as the light on it finally dims. With each swing, J05HUΛ keeps his teeth gritted tightly, pained grunts slipping out each time that makes your chest hurt for him.

“Alright, let’s go.” You help him get the jacket zipped up to his neck and he sways a little against the wall as you grab the guard’s cap from the floor and place it on his head, tucking his hair under it.

Peeking out of the bathroom you check for signs of anyone in the hall. When you see no one is around, you place your hand back in his, the two of you sprinting down the hall. You keep the extinguisher in hand as you go, just in case you need it again.

The two of you make it down the flights of stairs to the ground floor. You hear commotion closer to the front hallways so you both go the opposite way, towards the back of the building to find a way out. One hall you turn down is made up mostly of meeting rooms and a lot of them are windowless except for one you find at the very end. When you peek out of the window you don’t see signs of anyone, only the security gate across the yard.

“This is our best bet. We just have to keep moving until we get through the gate. Then we can take the train to my place and regroup from there.” J05HUΛ nods and helps you unlock and slide open the window. He gives you a boost since the window is a little high, but once you have the leverage you’re tumbling over the side, landing on the ground on your butt.

“Are you okay?!” J05HUΛ asks in a panic as he makes it up and out of the window.

“Fine, just clumsy.”

“As always,” he manages to huff out a laugh that you return. You get serious again and hand in hand, you both stalk across the yard toward the front, keeping yourselves low and glued to the wall. You make it around the building, across the yard, and through the gate without incident. You’re more than lucky that the guards who usually stay stationed at the exit and entrance are gone so you’re able to speed out undetected.

You and J05HUΛ fast-walk down the sidewalk, to one of the train stops that will take you to your condo. You don’t live far from the building by train, but it’s too far to walk. Luck strikes again when the train car you get into, towards the back, is empty save for a man in business attire who’s asleep. You’re both silent during the ride, keeping your heads down and once the train arrives at the station near your place you lead him off and straight to your building.

“Hang on.” You stop at the side of the entrance door to check for your building’s security. The last thing you need is anyone asking questions about why you’re returning home with a guard that has visible blood on his uniform.

The security guard is behind the desk in the lobby, asleep with his hat over his face. You don’t want to wait for him to decide he has to get up, so you both creep into the lobby doors, holding your breaths as you tiptoe through and around the corner to the elevator.

With shaky hands, you input your code to unlock the front door and the two of you rush inside, still paranoid. It’s not until the door is locked do you finally let out the breath you feel you’ve been holding since the night began, shoulders sagging as you slide to the foyer floor.

J05HUΛ plops next to you, wincing and doubling over, hand hovering over his chest. You had almost forgotten about his chest, helping him ease the guard jacket off and undoing the tops of the overalls. You inspect the cracked device underneath his shirt and he grimaces as he touches it, hand flinching away. The pain hadn’t lessened much, but he tried not to dwell on it.

“What just happened?” you speak first, your voice seems too loud in your apartment.

“We left. I’m out.”

“What now?”

“I don’t know.” And neither do you. Everything happened so quickly that you could barely register the last handful of minutes.

“What even brought this on? I don’t even know how things dissolved into chaos. We just finished that meeting and I went to the bathroom, then the alarm started going off and I just - I didn’t know who else to look for.”

J05HUΛ smiles at you in the tiniest of ways at your words. “So you came to look for me?”

You return the gesture, exhausted but still genuine. “Yeah.” J05HUΛ keeps smiling before it slips and his expression is suddenly serious again.

“5.C0UP5 - Seungcheol. He told us all to run.”

“He what?”

“He didn’t address us - the group - but I know the message was for us. And I knew what it meant. A few of the other members, I saw them running in the halls as I was looking for you and I know they were trying to get out too. We’ve never talked about it, since you know, we’re always being listened to,” he gestures to his now broken communicator. “But I’m pretty sure they wanted out too. I can only hope that they also escaped.” Worry flashes across J05HUΛ’s face, no doubt thoughts of his group mates flickering through his mind.

Swiping a hand over your face, you do your best to stay calm.

“Okay. So, we definitely have to leave Earth. You’re never going to be able to live how you want here. They’ll come looking for you.”

“Where do we go?”

“I don’t know. But the first thing we need to do is get your wounds looked at.”

“Do you know someone who can help?”

“I think so, let’s get some supplies and go. I’m sure they’re going to come looking here eventually.”

Joshua has seen this man before. His tall height is hard to miss when he would be moving about the facility, shadowing other mechanics who would sometimes help him and the other members of 53V3NT33N. He’s only been working at the facility for a year, but he’s always around, especially if you’re in the room. He stays glued to your side, joking with you, helping you carry things, only ever asking you questions. Joshua always notices.

After you gathered up a backpack of what you classified as supplies, changed your clothes, and let Joshua charge a little with a charger you kept around for him, you left. After sneaking past your building security for the second time, the two of you got on another train to go a few blocks to another apartment building. When you reach the door you’re looking for, the man looks shocked to see you both, eyes darting up and down the hallway.

“Y/n?”

“Hey, Mingi. I need your help.”

You push past him into the apartment, Joshua trailing behind.

“Is…everything okay?” He looks between you and Joshua, clearly unsure what to do next.

“Mingi, I really need you to help me out here. He - he was shot. And we’re trying to get his communication device out, but I can’t, I just broke it. And we need a place to sleep if possible. I know showing up here and asking you this is a lot, but I would just really, really appreciate it if you could help me out here. Please?” Mingi blinks at you as you ramble, wide-eyed. He steals a few glances at Joshua who’s next to you, leaning against the wall. Both of his wounds are starting to take a toll on him, his body still feeling heavy and in need of repair and a longer charge.

“You want me to repair J05HUΛ and remove his tracker? Did - did you get clearance for this? Is this coming from the CEO?”

“No. It’s not.”

He looks at you again, sighing. “I don’t know, this doesn’t sound good. Maybe I should call -”

“Mingi, please?” You surge forward, grabbing his hands between your own. “Please, I’m begging you, please do this. For me?” Joshua feels a frown form on his face at the contact, staying silent as he watches Mingi stare down at you and your joined hands. Joshua’s no expert at human relationships, but the way that Mingi looks at you makes it clear he has romantic feelings for you and Joshua doesn’t like it.

It feels like minutes tick by before the man agrees, saying he’ll do what he can.

Mingi leads the two of you to a room in his apartment that’s full of parts and tools. He mentions that he uses his spare bedroom as a workshop and gestures to the table in the middle of the room. Joshua takes his place on the table, watching as Mingi moves around another table littered with tools. There’s a chair pushed to the side of the room that you sit in, furiously typing on your phone.

Joshua wants to ask you what you’re doing, but he doesn’t get a chance to because Mingi is hovering over him with a sharp tool in his hand.

“Truth be told, I’m not sure how to properly remove this - they didn’t go over any of that with the junior mechanics, so I’ll have to just take it out with what I have. I think that means this is going to hurt…like a lot maybe.” Mingi apologizes, but something in Joshua’s mind tells him that he isn’t that sorry.

The first incision around the tracker that Mingi makes has Joshua unable to hold back a scream and you’re on your feet immediately, rushing over to him. Mingi only glances up momentarily, before cutting again, around the top outline of the tracker. Joshua tries his damnedest not to yell again, but can’t control it. The short-haired mechanic stops and turns to his desk of tools to grab what looks like a rag, handing it to Joshua.

“I know it hurts, but I have neighbors, so maybe bite this?” You take the cloth from Mingi and carefully put it into Joshua’s open mouth and he can’t help but notice the way your fingers graze his chin once he bites down and you move away.

The pain starts again and Joshua’s muffled yells fill the room. The pain is too much - more than anything he’s ever felt. The thumps from the fire extinguisher were one thing, but the sensation of a sharp object piercing him is too much for him to take. He’s grateful to feel your hand grasping his, but it feels brief, as his vision goes dark and he passes out.

When Joshua’s eyes open, the room is bathed in the faintest of warm light and he momentarily forgets where he is, blinking to get a better view of his surroundings. He moves to sit up, eyes scanning the room, seeing it’s dark still outside of the blinds. His gaze shifts down and he sees you lying on the floor wrapped in a blanket. He realizes he’s on a couch, charging as he was out. The memory of his “surgery” comes back, his hand reaching up to touch the space between his collarbones where his tracker has always been. It’s gone though, only a bandage wrapped around him. His arm that was shot is also wrapped up and he assumes Mingi patched that hole up. Both are still sore but not nearly as painful anymore.

He sits up which makes you stir and soon you’re upright too.

“Hey,” you whisper in the dark. “How are you feeling?”

“Better honestly. How long was I out?”

“A few hours. Mingi helped me bring you to the couch when he was done and I started charging you. You need your strength, especially after that.”

“You don’t need to sleep on the floor. I could’ve.”

“Joshua, you passed out. I wasn’t going to have you on the floor. And it’s fine. I was pretty tired so I fell right asleep.” You offer up a tired smile and Joshua thinks you look amazing, even given what’s going on.

“So, what’s going to happen now?”

“Well, Mingi let us crash for the night but we have to head out soon. We need to get to the spaceport so we can get off of Earth. I have a friend who I reached out to while you were resting. He offered to help us figure things out if we can get to him.”

“Where is he?”

“Salax.”

“Oh, where is -” A sudden rush of footsteps in the hallway outside of Mingi’s door has you both jolting, heads whipping towards the sound.

You jump up immediately, on edge. When you hear loud voices identifying themselves and saying they’re looking for automaton J0SHUA you know it’s time to go. Joshua’s already up and rushing to a window in Mingi's dining room, while you scoop up your backpack that has been on the floor next to you.

Joshua throws the window open as Mingi comes into the room, saying your name. You turn to face him, guilt clear on his features.

“Did you call them?”

“Y/n, come on, this is crazy. I heard about what happened.”

“I can’t believe you fucking called them!” You’re fuming, stomping over to Mingi, ignoring that you have to look up to yell at him.

“I didn’t want to lose my job! If they find out about any of this I’m fucked! And it’s not too late for you. Just tell them he forced you to get him out or something.”

“But he didn’t. We left together!”

“Are you really going to go on the run with a robot?! Give up your job and life and possibly get sent off to prison for a machine?!”

The urge to smack him is overwhelming, but you hold back, sneering at him instead.

“It sounds a lot better than staying here with people I can’t trust. That “machine” has been much nicer to me than most humans I know.”

“Oh come on, Y/n.”

“Go to hell, Mingi.” That’s the last thing you say before joining Joshua at the window, following him out onto the fire escape.

In the distance, you hear voices enter Mingi’s apartment, but the two of you don’t turn around, rushing down all three floors and jumping to the ground.

“Where now?!” Joshua whispers, the alley you end up in is dark with barely any light but it keeps you hidden.

“We need to get to the spaceport and get off of Earth.”

“And how far away is that?”

“We’ve gotta get to a train stop. It shouldn’t take too long. We just need to get on and keep moving. I have a way off the planet.”

You and Joshua stay as low to the ground as you can, keeping your bodies pressed flat against the side of the building, and take the alley in the opposite direction of where the front door is to Mingi’s building.

There’s a small street behind the building and the only signs of life you see are a few stray creatures. The two of you, as quickly and quietly as possible, go a few blocks away to a stop that isn’t so close to where they’re immediately looking. The whole time you can hear the loud, booming voices of everyone who’s looking for you and Joshua receding the further away you get.

Your heart is beating so loudly that it’s all you hear as you make your way into the shadows and finally rush to a stop and board the train. You don’t relax until you and Joshua make it to your seats but even still you can’t help but look over your shoulder and scan the rest of the passengers in the car afraid you’ll see the face of someone who will snatch both you and Joshua up and bring you back to face the consequences of your escape.

When you and Joshua reach the spaceport, you keep your eyes open and alert both for any guards that may have the idea that this is your next stop. The two of you do your best to blend into the crowd of people that walk by, attempting to look like any other normal people. There are plenty of commuter and private ships arriving and departing all the time, but there’s also a part of the spaceport that has spaces that can be rented to park your own ships.

In one spot, there's a ship parked, one that you haven’t touched in what feels like years - in reality, it’s only been about half a year.

“You have a ship?” Joshua asks when you finally reach the spot and subsequently, your small ship that has been parked dormant and untouched. He’s genuinely surprised - he doesn’t remember you talking about flying or knowing how to.

“Yeah, I used to want to be a pilot. I did a bunch of training and did a lot of test flying, but it didn’t work out in the end. Luckily I was serious enough that I bought this cheap little ship to practice. I don’t fly it much anymore given my job.” You’re out of breath as you talk, nerves on high alert to leave as you inspect your ship once the two of you are inside.

Aside from the dust that’s collected, everything seems to be in good condition. After powering on the engine, you notice your gas gauge isn’t as full as you’d like.

“Maybe I should grab gas before we head out.” Salax will take time to get to and you think you have enough but it could be cutting it close. You mention this to Joshua who steps out of the ship with you, prepared to head to a fueling station to buy a container of gas.

You don’t have a chance to do this when you hear shouting in the distance that sounds like both your name and Joshua’s automaton identification. When you look to your right, you see a handful of uniformed guards, running towards the two of you with weapons raised.

“Fuck never mind, we’ll have to chance it!” You grip Joshua’s hand and rush back into the ship. Once you stumble back aboard, you immediately rush to the cockpit and survey all of the controls until you find the one you need to close the door and start the engine.

As soon as you get the engine to start, you immediately begin to lift off, and you hear bullets hit the metal of the ship, but nothing seems to set off any of the emergency alarms. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the guards through the window, running toward the spaceship and waving their arms and weapons in the air. You ignore it as you take off, going up, up, up until you’re in the air, and heading out into the expanse of the sky, as streaks of orange appear in front of you with the impending sunrise.

You thank past you for leaving travel food and water rations behind on your ship after your last trip. It’s barely enough to get you through, you think, but it’ll do. There’s plenty of electricity for Joshua at least so he stays charged and well-rested on your journey. Your autopilot takes charge, keeping your ship coasting through the stars and on course for Salax.

As the days morph into weeks you lose track of time. All you can do is sleep, talk, or gaze into the expanse of space. The time allows you to learn more about Joshua beyond what you already know. Knowing he’s always wanted to get out and live a normal life makes you feel sad for some reason.

At least you’ve always had a choice. For Joshua, the whole reason he was even created was to be someone else’s to order around and do what they say. He’s never gotten a chance to do anything else.

“I’ve just always wanted to be a regular person. I see humans walking around wherever they want, doing whatever they want, whenever they want. I wanted it so bad I started hating humans, loathing even. Why can’t I have that, you know? Why was I made like this?” Joshua keeps his face turned away, eyes fixed on the sky outside. “I care about the rest of my members, but if I had a choice, I don’t think I’d choose this life. I’ve always just wanted to, I don’t know, push a button and have a do-over. Maybe start from my creation and be born and experience a normal, actual life and have human experiences.”

One of his hands rests in his lap, the other under his chin. You’re both sitting on a padded bench in front of one of the small windows, legs folded as you stare out into the dark. Slowly, you inch your hand closer, resting it on the one in his lap. The gesture startles him a little, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he turns his hand over to cup yours.

“You may not be able to start over in time, but this is still a way of starting over and starting a new life. You can at least do what you want now, for the most part.”

His smile falters a little as he thinks. “Do you think they’re still looking for us though? Will they come looking on Salax?”

“I’m not sure. We’re only stopping to meet with a friend of mine. He has a place we can stay for a night or so just to give us a chance to breathe since we’re off Earth. Plus, we’ll need to refuel when we get there since I couldn’t fill the tank before we had to leave.”

Joshua hums, more words on his mind. “Even if they come to find us, I won’t let them take us back. I want to start over and I won’t give up.”

He squeezes your hand and you return the gesture. “And I won’t either. Truthfully, I didn’t have much going on back on Earth except my job and I mean, you were my job anyway, so I can’t be missing much.”

Joshua doesn’t say anything else, he just nods. He looks like he has more words, maybe ask you something else, but he doesn’t, both of you going back to studying the stars, hands still locked.

“Can I ask you about your family?” Joshua questions you one day. He had heard you mention earlier that you were getting closer to Salax and that you were maybe a day away from arrival.

While soaring through space has been uneventful in terms of much of anything happening, it’s given Joshua a chance to finally, for once in his existence, relax. He hasn’t had to worry about rushing to schedules or singing and dancing. He’s been able to do nothing except sit, talk to you, and not have to worry about much else. It’s a much-needed break for him that he appreciates, even given the circumstances.

You’ve talked about how you didn’t love your job as a manager, but he made the job more enjoyable, and how being a pilot was the only thing you ever pursued, but that was another thing you didn’t love, even after all the work you put into getting a license and training.

So you had settled on this job when your friend, a former manager who worked with the group, decided to quit. You don’t have a roommate or any real friends other than a few acquaintances, but you’ve been skirting around talking about any parents or siblings and he’s curious. He doesn’t have any of that so he just wants to know.

The question makes you bristle and for a second, he wonders if he should take his question back and tell you to forget he asked, but after a moment you answer.

“They died. My mom was a pilot too and she got caught in a meteor shower and died when I was a teenager. Her ship took too many hits and she was close enough to Earth that she crashed on the other side of the planet. Then, my dad got sick a few years ago before I started working at the company and he passed.” Your hands fiddle with some peeling plastic on the control panel, not looking at Joshua.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“No, it’s okay. The question was bound to come up eventually. I’m not close with anyone else in my family - we all just grew apart over the years. It happens.” You shrug your shoulders, the air in the cockpit feeling heavier than it did before. Joshua approaches you, hesitant hands reaching out unsure where to touch to console you.

He feels nervous and second-guesses whether or not he should make contact, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but the slump of your shoulders tells him that you need comfort. So he reaches for you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close to his chest. You stiffen, but only for a moment, before going lax in his hold.

Joshua keeps you in his arms, neither of you saying anything or making any move to separate. You stay like that until you start to yawn, tiredness finally hitting. He walks with you back to the room with the two cots you’ve both been sleeping in, tucking you in. Joshua moves to back away and go to the other cot, to rest himself, but you grab his arm, not letting him go.

“You can sleep over here with me tonight. If you want.” Your voice is small and even if he wanted to say no, which of course he doesn’t, he couldn’t anyway. So, Joshua climbs into the cot with you, letting you bury your face into his chest as he holds you.

You lay in silence for a few seconds before he speaks, “I’m your family now. And I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.” To him, it feels like the right thing to say and it’s the truth. Joshua has had his feelings for you growing over time and now that he's gotten this time with just the two of you, you are the most important person to him in the galaxy. He can’t imagine doing any of this without you ever again.

It’s quiet again before you sniffle, clinging closer to him, your fingers twisting in the fabric.

“Thank you, Joshua.”

“Of course.”

You fall asleep then, the gentlest of snores leaving you. He decides he’ll rest here and worry about charging when you wake up. He’s got enough juice not to shut down and he doesn’t want to risk waking you and having this moment stop for him.

Salax is as busy as you remember from the one time you’ve been. When you finally land a few days later, the spaceport is full of people departing from their ships. You see Hoseok almost immediately though, his wide smile and flailing arms unmistakable.

When you reach him, he pulls you into a hug, talking in your ear about how much he’s missed you.

“I missed you too, Hobi,” you laugh, using his old nickname.

He pulls back, lightly squeezing your shoulder before his eyes shift over to Joshua.

“And this is the friend you said you were bringing, right?”

“Yeah. This is Joshua.”

Joshua keeps his head low and bows to Hoseok who pulls him into a hug instead. “Nice to meet you! If Y/n likes you then I do too!” Joshua looks caught off guard but offers a hesitant smile in return.

Hoseok quickly ushers you both to follow him to his small home near the spaceport. Hoseok does ship repair on Salax, so he stays nearby which makes arriving and subsequently leaving easier. You don’t think anyone on Salax would turn Joshua in or tell that he’s here, seeing how so many people visit Salax for anonymity, but you don’t want to take any chances.

His house is small and simple: a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. He points you to the room you and Joshua will share including the bed you’ll both sleep in. The two of you had been resting on the two separate cots on your ship, except for the night he held you until you fell asleep, so this’ll be the first time you’ll be in the same bed since then.

You ignore that fact to focus on Hoseok telling you where everything is, adding that you can stay as long as you need.

“We appreciate it, but we need to be somewhere where we don’t have a chance of being recognized, so we won’t stay too long.” Joshua nods at your words, looking a little more relaxed now that you’re inside, away from anyone who could notice him.

The mechanic turns to look at you both, hands on his hips as he studies you.

“Okay, well now that we’re inside, you wanna tell me why you suddenly sent me a message practically begging me to let you crash here due to an emergency?”

Now that you’re on Salax and in the same room, you feel more comfortable telling Hoseok the truth. He makes you a hot meal as you talk, telling him about the escape and everything that happened between then and now. Hoseok listens the whole time, joining you with a plate of his own as you tell him that now you just need to find somewhere that’s safe and not likely to get caught. Somewhere you two can just live freely.

“Oh! Have you thought about Lumen?” Hoseok asks after you finish talking, his mouth full of noodles.

“Lumen?” The name sounds vaguely familiar, but you can’t place it.

“It’s supposed to be the safest planet in the galaxy. I’ve heard people mention it in my travels, and a friend of mine told me a little more about it, but I’ve never been. You have to travel as far North from our solar system as you possibly can. It’s beside Galaxy 428B.”

“Are there people there? Is it super populated?”

“Yeah, there’s people of some kind there. And I’ve known quite a few people who have set out with Lumen in mind.”

“Do you know anyone who has been there and back?”

Hoseok shakes his head, leaning over his coffee table to pour you more water after you guzzle down your first glass.

“Nope. I just know it’s where people really want to be, especially people that may be looking for a new place to call home.”

You and Joshua’s eyes meet, sharing a look that you already know the definition of. You have to get to Lumen. Currently, there aren’t any other options for places for you two to go to live without constantly looking over your shoulders, waiting for someone from Earth to drag you both to Phylaca for the rest of your lives. The idea of no one having been to Lumen before makes you incredibly nervous, but it sounds like your best chance at any form of freedom.

Even without words, you can tell Joshua is likely thinking the same things, him offering you a simple head nod.

“We’ll go to Lumen, but we need fuel first though. You said it’s in another solar system?”

“Mmhmm. I can fuel you up for sure and take a look at your ship. I know you were never too good at any mechanical stuff.” Hoseok laughs at the frown and roll of your eyes you give him.

“Do you think you could do that today?”

“I have a few clients whose ships I have to look at today, but for you, I’ll get it done sooner rather than later. When are you trying to leave?”

“Uhh, is tomorrow going to work?”

Your old friend chokes on his food, coughing to swallow the noodles.

“Tomorrow?! You’re going to go soaring into the solar system to find a planet that no one has proof of existing, tomorrow?”

“Is that too short notice?” Hoseok blinks at you as if trying to decipher if you’re being serious. When you don’t crack a smile or say anything else, he quickly realizes that you are completely serious.

“Well shit, I guess not. If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you. I’ll make sure you can at least make it out there and maybe even make it back if it doesn’t turn out the way you’re hoping. Just in case.”

Ignoring the idea of not even making it to your destination and possibly embarking on this trip for nothing, you swallow your current mouthful of food, thank Hoseok, and work towards finishing the rest of your plate. Having only eaten bagged or freeze-dried food while flying to Salax, you’re more than thankful for the hot meal.

After dinner, you take your first real, hot shower in forever. Your shower on the ship is cramped and small and the water never gets to the steamy temperature you prefer. While you bathe, your mind focuses only on the fact that you’ll get to sleep in an actual bed tonight. Hoseok lends you some of his clothes while yours that you’ve scrubbed clean dry, the cloth pants and t-shirt ill-fitting but they’re a nice change from the same two pairs of cargo pants and t-shirts you’ve been rotating through.

When you leave the bathroom, Joshua is sitting on Hoseok’s couch, also donned in his clothes, and is flipping through the TV.

“Hey,” you call out, getting his attention.

“Hey. I don’t think I’m used to seeing you in such casual clothes,” he laughs, eying your outfit.

“I could say the same for you. I’m used to seeing you in nothing but designer fits.”

“It’s nice though. I never really got to pick the clothes in my closet, only what I’d put on for the day.”

Joining him on the couch, you sit close, your legs not quite touching. It may sound stupid, but even given what’s happened up until now, you’re not sure where you and Joshua stand as far as your relationship - if you can even call it that. The most contact you’ve had other than holding hands as you ran for your lives, was the hug turned cuddle he gave you before you landed on Salax.

The one thing you do know is how much the care you have for him has blossomed into so much more than the crush you’ve harbored since you first started spending time together back on Earth. Doing nothing but spending uninterrupted time together has solidified for you just how special he is and how important he is to you. Leaving everything you’ve ever known in your life sounds crazy but doing it for Joshua - with Joshua - felt like the best decision you’ve ever made.

At this point you could say you love him, but is it too soon for that? Joshua’s never even been in a relationship so what does this all even mean to him?

Before you can think too hard about it, his arm raises, draping over your shoulder. Trying not to react too obviously, you look at him out of the corner of your eye, seeing the way his jaw is tight, eyes still trained forward to the TV. Instead of saying anything, you lean against him and close the gap between the two of you on the couch as you rest your head on his shoulder. You can revisit this conversation later, but for now, you just want to appreciate this moment of calm before you’re on the move again.

Later that night, after Hoseok finishes working on a few clients’ ships and makes dinner, he begins his inspection of your ship. You join him by the spaceport while Joshua stays behind to rest. You sit on a spare fold-out chair Hoseok carried from his house for you.

“So, an idol automaton huh?” He smirks, quirking an eyebrow as he fills up the gas tank.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t strike you as someone who’d end up with an automaton. And an idol at that. How taboo.” He’s teasing, of course, laughing when you scoff.

“I’ve never cared about someone being an automaton, a human, or an alien. I’m open-minded, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, yeah. But still, you gave up your whole life back on Earth for him.”

“I know that, but it’s not like I had a whole lot going for me anyway. My job was whatever, the people I hung out with weren’t reliable, and it’s not like my family talks to me. It seemed like the only thing that made sense. Still does.”

“You must really like him.”

“I do. A whole lot. People can say what they want but automatons are just as much human as us. So what if they don’t bleed or have organs? They have personalities and feelings and sentience and Joshua is eons better to be around than any human I’ve met.”

Hoseok gives you a look over his clear work glasses.

“Not including you obviously. But I do like him. I didn't think about whether I'd go with him or not when he said he wanted to escape. I didn’t second-guess it or anything. I'll go wherever we need to get away from all that shit. Together.”

“Who knew you could be so sappy!” You flip him off, Hoseok only cackling at the gesture as he puts away his gas canister and moves around the ship to inspect it. “Well, I’m happy for you, Y/n. I know life has been feeding you shit for way too long. Being a fugitive seems like the nicest thing the universe could’ve done for you.”

“I agree. I just needed to run for my life to another planet for some real fulfillment.”

Hoseok rambles on as he does his inspection, telling you that things have been good for him too. He’s been in Salax for a couple of years and isn’t sure if how long he’ll stay, but he makes decent money now and has a solid clientele. He too seems much happier since he left Earth and you can’t blame him. Hoseok has always been a friendly man. The only reason you became friends was because he befriended you in pilot school and attached himself to you. At first, he was a little too excitable for your taste, but over the years he’s only served to become a staple in your life - even when he left Earth for a different life. He’s always been a ray of sunshine in your life, but seeing him shine even brighter now satisfies you.

After a thorough inspection, Hoseok only sees minor dings from the bullets on Earth and a rusted thruster which he says he can fix with no problem. He sends you to bed, ignoring your insistence to help him.

“Just because you can fly the ship doesn’t mean you know how to fix it,” he chides, waving you off. That’s also true. You know the controls on most standard ships and can navigate well, but when it comes to parts and repair, that’s not your strong suit.

“Don’t stay out here too late doing all this, okay? If you need to rest and work on it more tomorrow, we don’t mind.”

“Nah, I’ll have it done in two, three hours tops. Besides, you’re on the run. You can’t afford to stick around too long.”

He shoos you away one more time and you finally listen, making your way back to his house, at least bringing your chair back with you.

Joshua didn’t mean to eavesdrop per se. He just wanted to know where you were and when you were coming to rest. Since it’s dark out, the panic of staying hidden so much isn’t as intense, so he leaves Hoseok’s house to come find you at the spaceport. It’s not hard to see the two of you when not many people are out here at this time. As he approaches, he notices you and Hoseok are talking but doesn’t pick up what you’re talking about until he gets closer and hears his name. He ducks behind a ship parked a little ways away from yours, ears tuning in when he hears you talking about him.

He realizes that you’ve just said out loud that you like him. A lot. Joshua thinks if he had a beating heart it’d be pounding in his chest. Ever since you started to grow closer on the trip here, he’s wanted so badly to tell you that he wants to be more than friends with you. He knows for a fact he’s wanted to kiss you for a long, long time and he’s been holding out hope that maybe that time will come soon, especially now that it’s just the two of you.

He’s decided against it each time it passed his mind on the flight here and it came back when you rested your head on him earlier. You were so warm and so soft and you smelled amazing and he wanted nothing more than to finally kiss you, but he didn’t. You haven’t had a conversation about what you felt for him. He knows it’s always been more than professional, and he thinks that maybe it’s romantic, but the last thing he wants to do is assume.

“I'll go wherever we need to get away from all that shit. Together.”

Hearing you say that - that you’ll do this together, does give him the courage he needs, especially knowing that you do care about him in a non-platonic way.

When the conversation shifts between you and Hoseok, he lingers for a little while longer, then decides to go back to the house to let you and your friend catch up. When Joshua first met Hoseok, he couldn’t help but feel something negative stir in him when he embraced you, but when Hoseok did the same to him and continued to be extremely friendly, Joshua’s guard dropped.

Once he’s back to the house he retreats to the room you and he will share, getting into the bed you’ll both sleep in. The idea of sleeping so close to you again makes Joshua smile, wanting to put his arm around you like he did a few days ago. That gesture had taken courage he didn’t know he had, but since he’s done it and now that he knows you also have romantic feelings for him, there’s a new sense of boldness rushing through his wiring.

Joshua hears the front door open, but he only hears what sounds like a single person walking around. He wonders if it’s you, and when the bedroom door opens the next moment and he sees you poke your head in, he smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” he greets, watching you close the door before coming over to the bed and slipping under the covers, facing away from him.

“Hey,” your voice is a whisper even though he doesn’t hear Hoseok moving about. He drapes one of his arms over your waist and you immediately scoot back into him, his front pressed against your back. Joshua can’t help but lean over and inhale your scent, enjoying the way you smell like what he can only describe as home for him.

His lips are dangerously close to the soft skin of your neck and he wrestles with the idea of placing a kiss there for minutes, weighing the consequences before doing it. Joshua lets his lips graze your neck and he instantly hears the way your breath catches in your throat and notices that you jerk yourself back, body rubbing against him.

“Sorry,” you blurt, your body stiffening, but Joshua doesn’t mind.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, I just reacted. That’s a really sensitive spot for me.” You sound embarrassed, but Joshua isn’t bothered in the slightest.

Instead, he leans over and kisses that same spot again, getting the same reaction and he determines that he needs you to react like that more. His lips attach to your neck again, sucking a mark on the skin with enough force to make your toes curl. Tiny whines leave you as he lavishes your soft skin with his mouth and one of his hands - hands that are much bigger than yours - roams over your body, sliding up until he’s cupping your breast over your shirt. He cups you, fingers finding your nipple through the fabric.

You let out a gasp of his name and Joshua groans at the sound. Hearing you like this, all for him only makes him want you more.

He’s much more confident as he slips his hand under your shirt, kneading at your breast without the clothing barrier. Pleasure shoots up your spine as his fingers tug and tweak at your nipples, alternating between playing with each one. For a moment, you mentally apologize to Hoseok as you feel wetness pool between your legs, surely making the crotch of the pants messier with each twist of his fingers and each swipe of his tongue.

You’re sure he’s left your neck littered with marks with the way he’s teasing you without even realizing it.

“Joshua,” you breathe out, needing so badly to be touched elsewhere. You hadn’t planned on having your first time with him be so soon, but your building desire for him has only gotten more intense and he’s here right now, touching you like this and you need him so badly.

“What is it?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“Where?”

Instead of using your words, you take his hand and direct him beneath the waistband of your pants and between your legs.

“Oh my god, Y/n, you’re so wet,” His words are more of an observation, his tone full of surprise as he swirls his fingers through your arousal. You still clench around nothing at what he says and maneuver his fingers to your clit.

“Rub right there,” you direct him and he does, your body instantly jerking.

“Like this?” The pads of his fingers catch against your clit roughly and he’s using the perfect amount of pressure to have you stifling your moans, and failing miserably.

“Just like that, fuck.” Joshua adjusts to get a better look at you, gasping when he sees your expression. Your eyes flutter open and closed with each sound you make. Your lips are pulled between your teeth, eyebrows knitting together. Your hips move along with his hand, chasing the release that’s so close yet so far away.

Joshua’s fingers get curious, trailing lower to your sticky folds, prodding at your entrance.

“Yes, please,” you beg him, trying to adjust to get his fingers inside of you. He obliges, slipping a thick digit into your pussy, and you let out another soft whimper.

Joshua revels in how slippery you feel around his finger and how tight your body is. He pumps his finger in and out of you and lets out a pleased sound of his own. He’s never felt anything like this before, and everything in him is on high alert, his hunger for you stirring deep within him.

He slips another finger inside of you and you react immediately. One of your hands grasps at his arm, your nails digging in.

“Faster, please.”

He obliges, fingers pistoning out of you quicker than you’re ready for. You see stars dot your vision as the tips of his fingers brush that sensitive, spongy spot in you, your orgasm rushing at you with each move of his wrist. The fact that Joshua is an automaton nearly slips your mind until you take notice of just how fast he’s moving. He was built with endurance in mind which means he doesn’t tire the same as you or any past partners. In the past, at this point, a human’s arm would’ve gotten tired, but not Joshua's. His fingers continue to pummel your pussy, palm now cupping you, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit.

His pace stays steady and soon you’re hurdling over the edge, nearly shrieking out his name. You have to twist your head and bury your face in the pillow to muffle your yelp as you cum, trying to stay mindful that the third person in this house could hear you falling apart around Joshua’s fingers at any moment.

The automaton marvels at you when your body tenses up before going lax, your hips stuttering as you buck against his hand a few more times. Joshua is obsessed with this - with you. Obsessed with the way you feel in his arms and his hands and how you feel around his fingers. He can’t help but wonder just how good you’ll feel around his dick. He’s already hard, his erection grinding into your lower back. That pressure feels good, but he just knows having his dick inside of you will be even better.

“Joshua. Please, I need you - need your cock. Do you want to?”

“Yes, I need to feel you so bad.” You take a moment to think through your lust, wondering which position would be best given the small bed and Joshua’s limited experience. You quickly decide to ride him, taking his fingers out of you so you can strip.

With wide, eager eyes, he watches you undress, eyes studying every inch of bare skin he gets to see. Curiosity overcomes him when his eyes dart to his still drenched fingers and he brings them to his mouth. When you’re naked and turn back to Joshua, you moan at the sight of him sucking your arousal off of his fingers. His eyes slip closed, and he lets out a satisfied hum so deep, your pussy aches at the mere sound.

Frantic hands help him out of his sleep clothes next, your eyes sweeping over him in the dim moonlight that creeps in through the cracks in the blinds. He’s unblemished and perfect. His arms and chest are buff and sculpted and the urge to cover him in marks of your own is strong, but that will have to wait. You need him so bad and you want to finish before Hoseok returns for the night, the fear of being overheard making you move with purpose.

You take in the sheer size and girth of his cock, recalling yet again that he was made to be perfect in every way. For a moment, you worry you won’t be able to take him all the way, but you’re sure as hell going to try.

Joshua moans out loud when you grip his length, giving him a few strokes. He watches you spit on it, using your saliva to slick him up before you swing your leg over his waist. Keeping his dick steady, you hover over him, the tip slowly breaching your entrance as you ease down further.

Each inch of him has your body shaking above him, both of you letting out shared noises of pleasure. When he’s fully sheathed inside of you, a cry from the depths of your stomach slips out. You’ve never felt so full in your life and the stretch of him is almost too much.

You lift yourself on your knees before dropping back down, eyes squeezing shut at how good he feels. It’s hard to find a rhythm, at first, but when you do, it’s desperate and sloppy but exactly what you need. Joshua’s hands rest on your waist as he thrusts upward each time you lower, fucking up into you in perfect unison with your movements.

“Joshua, fuck. You’re s-so big,” you mewl, hands planted on his chest as you bounce.

“You like that?”

“I fucking love it.”

Pride takes over Joshua as his hold on you tightens. He pushes his hips up even faster, watching your eyes widen and your mouth hang open. He wants to memorize you like this. You’re always stunning, and you have been since the moment he met you, but this is a different kind of beauty that he’s never seen and he loves it.

Joshua plants his feet on the bed, using the leverage to thrust up with more force, almost knocking you over the side of the bed, but his hands keep you put.

“S-shit. Joshua, Shua, just like that!” The shortened version of his name just slips out and Joshua decides that he enjoys the sound of it.

He moves at a speed that makes you dizzy, the bed underneath you creaking under the force. Joshua is fucking you so hard, so rough, and you swear each thrust is deeper than the last even with you on top.

“Star, you feel so good. So tight around me,” Joshua grunts. “You’re so perfect.”

“I’m so close, Shua. I’m g-gonna cum!”

“Cum for me, Star. Wanna see you,” His eyes take in your expression of ecstasy and the way your breasts bounce, but they finally land on your lips. They look so red since you’ve been gnawing on them and they look so shiny, practically calling to him to kiss you.

He does just that, one of his hands moving up to the back of your head to pull you down to his face. Joshua’s lips collide with yours, kissing you for the first time. The sensation is foreign to him, yet it feels like this is where he always should’ve ended up, here with you, buried deep inside of your warmth while your lips mold together, moving in a frantic rhythm as you swallow each other’s needy sounds.

Joshua’s tongue breaches the seam of your lips, lapping at every inch of your mouth he can reach. He eagerly wraps his tongue around yours and suckles while driving his hips up again and again. His lap is covered in your wetness and he feels you tremble above him.

“I’m cumming, Shua, I’m cumming!” You whine into his mouth and in the next second your limbs go stiff as you topple over the edge, vision blurring as you cum. The breath gets knocked out of you as you turn to jelly in Joshua’s arms. He has to keep you upright, but then he cums right after you, hips almost bruising yours while he shoves himself into you to the hilt, painting your gummy walls with his release.

A pathetic whimper falls from your lips as he empties into you, pumping you even fuller. He only falters a little as he fucks his cum back up into you.

“J-Joshua. Please, I’m so sensitive,” your voice sounds scratchy to your ears and it matches how tired the rest of you is.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls out of you carefully and oh so gently.

You flop next to him, lying in a heap against him as he wraps the blankets around you both.

“Wow,” he speaks after a while, almost feeling like he’s floating.

“Yeah. I can’t believe that was your first time.”

“It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done.” You can’t help but chuckle at him, fingers absentmindedly stroking up and down his arm draped over your waist.

“Just remember that I don’t have the stamina you do. I need a little time between to get my strength back.”

“I can wait. Do you need anything? I can go get you some water or I can get another blanket.”

“No, no. The only thing I need from you is to hold me.”

“I can do that.” He leans over you again to plant a kiss on your cheek, the gesture incredibly sweet.

“Good night, Joshua.”

“Good night, Star.”

The sun wakes you up the next morning, your body feeling sore and warm. When you realize that you’re still in Joshua’s arms naked, you remember last night. You smile to yourself, turning to look at him, seeing his eyes are already open.

“Good morning,” he greets, kissing you as soon as he catches sight of your lips. He swallows up your attempt to respond, a large hand cupping your face.

When he finally lets you go after you remind him again that you do need to breathe, he stays close to your face.

“I think I’ve found my new favorite thing,” he muses.

“And what’s that?”

“Kissing you. I think it might even be better than having sex with you.”

You snort at his answer, trying to hide the way your face burns at his words. “Well, you can do plenty of both of those things once we’re in flight again, but we should probably get a move on the day.”

He pouts momentarily, but finally agrees, letting you get up with one more kiss.

Hoseok is up when you’re dressed and leave the room, already in the kitchen when you come in.

“Morning sleepy head! You guys gonna head out soon?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to shower again since I won’t get the luxury of a full-sized shower on the ship.”

“Go for it. Your clothes are dry also, they’re on the couch. And you have to make sure you eat and take some food! Your boyfriend can’t eat but you have to!”

Both you and Joshua look at each other when he says that, but neither of you says anything about the new title for him, which Hoseok notices, laughing at the looks on your faces.

Two hours later when you’re fed, showered, and packed, Hoseok walks you to your ship, both you and Joshua are well-rested and ready for your journey. He demands that you try and radio him when you get there (“and you will get there,” he makes sure to add).

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Hoseok. You’re really saving us here.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do for my friend.” He flashes you his heart-shaped smile once more and gives you a bear hug, arms squeezing you tight. “Be safe okay? I’ll be here for a while if you need me."

“I appreciate you more than I can say. And I say this with love, but I hope I don’t need to come back.”

“Fair. I also say this with love, but me too.”

Hoseok embraces Joshua next, telling him to take good care of you.

“I will. I always will.”

Another round of goodbyes later and you’re both back on your ship. You punch in the vague coordinates Hoseok could give you. Since no one knows where Lumen is exactly, all you can do is type in coordinates that are North, next to Galaxy 428B, and hope for the best.

Right before you lift off the ground, you wave at Hoseok through the window then steer the ship until you start your ascent. Once you breach the last layer of the atmosphere, you’re off again and you turn on the autopilot, letting your ship take over and do the most tedious part which is coasting until you reach your destination, whenever that’ll be.

“Are we on our way?” Joshua finally asks from his seat to your right as the dark expanse of outer space stretches in front of you.

“Yep. We’ve probably got months of just this.”

“And the ship is flying itself?”

“Well yeah, that’s how autopilot works, remember? We did it for Salax.”

“Just checking,” Joshua gives you a look that you can’t decipher before getting up and making it to you in a few strides, crashing his lips against yours. He kisses you breathlessly yet again, pulling away and letting you pant against his lips.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“You said we could when we were back on the ship,” he pouts, his round, brown eyes sparkling back at you.

“I know and we can, but right now?”

“Only if you want to, of course.”

“I do.”

“Good!” Joshua scoops you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing and carries you to the sleeping quarters of the ship.

“Oh my god, I’ve created a sex monster!” You giggle as he places you on one of the cots and starts pulling his clothes off.

“Not my fault being inside you is the best experience I’ve ever felt. And now we have so much time to spend doing it.”

You can’t really argue with him on that. There isn’t much to do when you’re coasting through space for an undetermined amount of time. So, you let Joshua get his fill of your body until you need to rest, eat, use the bathroom, and check the course of the ship.

Once all of your obligations are done, he fucks you again and again, almost making up for all of the time you couldn’t spend together. Joshua is an extremely fast learner and becomes an expert on all of the things you like and the ways you like to be touched in no time. And even though you’re exhausted you can’t find it in you to complain.

The time to Lumen feels almost unbearable. It’s a much longer journey than any you’ve ever taken. It gives you even more time to spend with Joshua which makes it all the more bearable. Lying and talking with him occupies all of your time (when he’s not bending you over any surface on the ship he can to try all of the things he’s only ever heard about). You love how easy it is to be with him and how easily he’s picked on habits of being a boyfriend and taking care of you. Even if you weren’t stuck in a flying metal tin with him you still don’t think you’d get sick of spending time with him like this.

That being said, you can’t help the paranoia that still creeps into your mind. What if this trip is all for nothing? What if you are flying towards a dead end and there is no Lumen, only a galaxy that goes on forever and ever? Sure, you can go back to Salax - you know that Hoseok will help you both and likely hide you until you deem it safe to be out and about on the planet, but you’ve never been very fond of Salax and don’t know if you necessarily want to call it your home long term.

“You look like you’re deep in thought,” Joshua interrupts your overactive brain, your doubts sitting heavy in the pit of your stomach.

You turn away from the window that you’ve been transfixed staring out of for who knows how long. You pull the blanket you’re draped in tighter around your body giving Joshua a small quirk of your lips.

“Yeah, I was just thinking…”

“Clearly,” Joshua sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you close. “About what?” Your body automatically leans into him, enjoying the warmth emanating from his bare chest.

“I’m just worried. What if we don’t find Lumen? Hoseok said that he doesn’t even know anyone who’s successfully made it and reported back. That’s terrifying. What if all of those people didn’t make it? What if they just ended up floating in space forever? Or what if Lumen is extremely hostile or unsafe? What if any of those travelers died? What if -”

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Joshua stops your spiraling, turning you in his arms to face him. “We don’t know any of those things, okay? All we can do is keep going and see where we end up. Worrying about it won’t help now will it?”

“No…”

“Exactly. So let’s just see what happens. How long do we have before we reach the galaxy it’s supposedly next to?”

“I’ll check,” he lets you unravel yourself from his hold so you can approach the cockpit to read the navigation. “We’re actually not that far from Galaxy 428B. Maybe another few weeks or so if we’re lucky. It’s already been a few months since we left Salax so it hopefully won’t be too much longer. If it’s even there that is.”

“Sit down, Star.” The usage of your nickname from Joshua’s lips only serves to make you melt, doing as he says and sinking into the seat in front of the control panel. Joshua approaches you, spinning the chair to face him and bending at the waist to kiss you.

His lips move over yours lazily, tongue soon following to poke your lips, asking for entrance. You let him in, his tongue immediately moving into your mouth. Joshua kisses you hard, hands cradling your face as your arms loop around his neck.

Slowly, he sinks to his knees in front of you, spreading your legs open to get a look at your bare core. He makes a sound of appreciation deep in the back of his throat before surging forward, burying his face between your thighs. His tongue licks you from your entrance up to your clit a few times. Already having you sinking down in the seat to get closer to his face.

Joshua’s tongue plunges into your hole as he eats you out sloppily but with purpose. He laps at you, making out with your cunt. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tugging at the strands as you yell out for him, legs shaking as they wrap around his head to keep him where he is.

You already know Joshua is coaxing an orgasm out of you to distract you and keep you from worrying and it’s definitely working.

Joshua has done his best to be the calm one out of the two of you. When you start to stress and worry about where your journey will take you, he uses words of reassurance to keep you level-headed and uses sex to distract you which seems to work for both of you. When you’re not doing that though or when you’re asleep is when he also starts to have his own thoughts of dread.

Of course, he has the same worries as you; worries that your trip will only end in your demise or that you’ll get lost in space. It’s been months since you started your journey into the unknown and neither of you have any idea if you’re anywhere closer to your end goal. Joshua knows he can’t truly die, not in the same way a human, you, would. At worst, he’ll run out of charge if the ship is somehow damaged to the point that the electricity goes out. Then he’s in trouble. But you, there are so many terrible things that could happen to you.

You could starve or freeze to death. If you’re attacked by pirates you could be injured or even killed. The list of terrible things that could fall upon you is endless and it’s the main thing that sometimes keeps him from relaxing and letting himself close his eyes. It’s why he’s up now, leaving you curled up in the sleeping area while he paces the main part of the ship, willing his active imagination to shut up.

He nearly starts to spiral even more, when in the distance he spots something that isn’t just another moon or an asteroid. It looks an awful lot like a planet. A planet that looks a little like Earth from this distance.

Joshua frantically surveys the navigation before giving up, knowing he can’t read what it means.

“Star! Y/n!” He runs to the sleeping area, calling you until you groggily sit up, calling him in response.

“Joshua?”

“There’s a planet! It’s not super close but it looks a little like Earth!”

You’re up as soon as he finishes his sentence and sprinting to the cockpit to check the navigation.

“We definitely passed Galaxy 428B and the coordinates look right. Holy shit, what if that’s Lumen?!” He joins you as you continue flying towards the planet. It’s still going to take a few minutes, but you both stand there the whole time, hands tangled together as you wait for any signals that you’re close enough to possibly speak to someone on the intercom system.

The minutes feel like hours as they crawl by, the planet getting clearer and clearer as you approach. It really does look like Earth.

You grip Joshua’s hands even harder, his fingers caressing your knuckles to try and keep your nerves calm. When you’re close enough to start to see more details, you take the ship out of autopilot to steer it. Joshua rests his hand on your shoulders, watching as you press a few buttons on what you’d mentioned was the intercom system.

“Hello? We are requesting permission to land.” You speak, your words steady even though Joshua can feel how you tremble in his hold.

After a minute or so a voice comes back, asking you for your registration and the reason for your visit.

“Our registration is DA471561J. We’re travelers looking to land permanently.”

There’s a beat of silence as your hands grip the steering device, both of you waiting for a response.

“Permission to land is granted. There is a dock just East of your current location. Welcome to Lumen.”

A sob slips out of your mouth when you hear the greeting, thanking the voice. Joshua wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you change your direction, presumably to the East.

“We made it, Star. We made it to Lumen.”

“We did,” you sniffle loudly and Joshua holds you closer.

“I love you, Star,” he whispers. It’s not something he’s ever thought he could feel, let alone say to someone.

And then you came into his life and made it clear that he is capable of love and most importantly, he’s in love with you.

“Joshua…I love you too,” you breathe, tears still pricking your eyes. You love him so much - the words had been hanging on your tongue for a while, but your nerves never let you say them until now. Now that you know that Joshua loves you too.

The worry that had been sitting heavy on both of your shoulders slips away at the fact that you’ve made it safely to your new home after flying for so long and that you’re both doing it with the person that you love.

You stay close to Joshua when the two of you finally land and are greeted by some of the citizens of Lumen. You don't think you’ve ever seen this many different inhabitants on one planet, not that you mind.

A few of them introduce themselves and when they ask your names, you tell them Joshua and Star. Hearing them call you both by your new, preferred names really makes this feel real. You both thank everyone nearly a hundred times, mentioning that you’re from Earth and you are hoping this is your new home.

“Oh! You’re from Earth too!” A little girl exclaims as she clings to the adult she’s with who you assume is her mom. “There’s another person here with a robot from Earth!” Her mother shushes her, but you insist it’s okay.

“Do you know where they are?” Joshua asks the mother, who nods.

“Yes, they’re living in a house that’s just outside of a town not far from here. It’s near where we live. I’ll show you.”

“Please.” Joshua looks at you, eyes full of hope and you nod back enthusiastically. You don’t want to get too excited and assume that it’s one of his former members, but there’s a chance. A small chance, but a chance nonetheless.

You and Joshua arrive at the house the mother and her child directed you to, seeing the sheer size of it. You both scan the area as you approach, noting the little garden and the lush forest behind it.

As you approach, Joshua scans the surrounding area, not seeing anyone else around. He’s about to voice his curiosity about the place when he feels your steps falter next to him. When he looks over at you, he sees your wide eyes staring straight ahead at the house. He follows your gaze, spying someone coming out of the front door, face turned up, casually glancing at the sky. At first, he doesn’t think anything of it until the man turns, glancing over as if looking right at him.

“Oh my god…Joshua, it’s -”

“Seungcheol,” he’s already noticed him, looking shell-shocked at seeing his leader - his family - again after so long.

The two of you break into a run to get to your new home and sense of familiarity. You and Joshua want this to be a new start for both of your lives and it looks like you won’t have to do it alone.

Net tag: @kflixnet

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